


Alice in Wonderfell

by SweetScone



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Blood, Blood and Violence, Double Fellatio, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, Heavy Petting, Light Bondage, Mild Gore, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scissoring, Self-Harm, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Underfell Sans, porn with a bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetScone/pseuds/SweetScone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That pit on Mt. Ebott was supposed to be your end. Yet you are miraculously alive and have thus no choice but to move forward into the convoluted cave. In this twisted reality where a plethora of ravenous monsters each want a bite of you, you have only yourself and a single friend to really on. But you musn't give up yet! There is a way out -but the cost is steep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down The Monster Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I'm really not used to writing longer stories, but I'll try to make this one as interesting as possible ;)! Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to write shameless Undertale smut, so I'll probably be adding a lot of it in the next chapters, while still trying to add a bit of plot (don't expect the story of the century, haha). Also, I can't guarantee how frequently I'll update, but I'll do my best :)!
> 
> Warning: There are rape/non-con elements, along with blood and violence. Read at your own risk if you dislike those.

There’s a soft, velvety texture under your fingers. You move them around, feeling strands of grass flicker in between them, the stem of flowers leaving tingling sparks along your arms. You open your eyes, taking in your surroundings. A cave. A halo of light shrouds the bed of golden flowers on which you fell, seemingly having halted your fall. Unfortunately, it may not have saved you from any and all harm: every limb of your body aches as you shuffle around, trying to get to your feet. Bruises litter your forearms where your jacket stops. Your jeans tore here and there, where branches and weeds protruding from the rocks above caught you while you plummeted unto the ground. Your memory is hazy; you take a while to gather your thoughts.

Had you tried to kill yourself? You’re pretty sure that’s the reason you jumped into the dark pit that laid bellow, though a smoldering guilt was gnawing at your conscience at everything you were leaving behind while you felt the wind whip your face. While little attachments remained between you and the real world, those fragile yet tangible bonds hooked you to a speck of hope: faded speck that only contributed to the misery of your marginal state. You were tired. Of the people you once called friends and family, only few were left. The awkward and scarce greetings exchanged when crossing paths had you thirst for a better and more fortunate past. Life had become a drag: waking up every day to the same dread filling you. The same room. The same people. The same route. Today, tomorrow, and every day after. Why keep this charade on? You had jumped to stop all those tiny voices tearing your mind. Yet here you were, alive. Your attempt had failed.

Not without any difficulty, you finally get up on your feet, taking in your surroundings. The carpet of flowers stands out eerily in the middle of a dark alcove, the hole above you several meters higher. You have no way of getting back up there: you had only planned a one-way trip. In spite of your budding desire to simply lay back on the welcoming cushion of the yellow cluster of plants and await a miracle given deliverance, you decide to step forward, steering yourself towards the only route further into the cave. As you keep advancing, you notice the small tunnel-like road is strangely well kept for such a hollow cavern. But then two massive pillars bordering a chiseled arch into the stone walls come into view.  A chill of both awe and worry travels down your spine as you pass their towering forms, wondering just who could have built and put them there. The passage opens on an even wider area, where another gap in the cave’s roof lets an aureole of light splatter lazily to the floor. At the center of it stands a lone flower, quite the dismal sight compared the array of petals that garnished the room in which you fell.

You approach it slowly, a somewhat familiar melancholy filling you as you take in its crooked and withered figure. You squat down to gently finger its dusty pollen riddled petals. A sudden shiver racking the flower’s stalk has you falling on your butt out of surprise. You stare, agape, as it turns avidly its core to the crown of light above, fluttering its leaflets as if to welcome the source of energy. Then it turns to you. It… It has a face?

\- Wh-what..?

At the center of the corona of golden feathery blades, there is a face –or at the least the major components of one. Two tiny, beady, black eyes overhang what seems like a mouth, a fine line shadowing folds at the flower’s center. As if the shock wasn’t enough to send your mind reeling, it starts to speak in an overly joyful tone.

\- Howdy! How are you doing there? The name’s Flowey! Flowey the flower.

There is a lack of answer on your part, as you are too preoccupied by what is transpiring in front of you to process the words.

\- You’re a human from the surface, right? It’s obvious it’s your first time Underground. I understand if you are scared or surprise by … What I am. I know humans seem to have forgotten our existence - us, monsters. But listen, I have to tell you something… Hey!

You snap out of your trance at the interjection, the moving flower beckoning you over by the cartoon-like wiggle of a leaf. Maybe… Just maybe your plan had worked out in the end? You were probably dead right now; there were no way this phenomenon was natural- or was this a comatose induced delirium? The Alice-like elements of this adventure have you shaking your head as if to clear all bad thoughts, finally kneeling to look down at the flower speaking to you.

\- What… Just what are you? A monster? Like some sort of fairy tale? I’m going crazy…

You rub your eyes from tiredness, hoping to cleanse away this illusion. But it remains. ‘’Flowey’’ flashes an empathetic smile.

\- As I said, I understand your disposition. I’d like to explain everything to you more thoroughly, but there is something more important right now! You’re now in the RUINS of the Underground. Though both places are considerably dangerous, this one is particularly harsh for a huma-

Flowey doesn’t finish his sentence as he suddenly scatters to hide behind you, his roots pulling nimbly from the ground, flecks of dirt rushing out behind him. You emit a startled cry as you feel him burrow in the back of your jacket, furling in on himself.  You hear footsteps from the looming shadows of the path ahead. Though your heart beats loudly in your ears from stress, you still manage to make out Flowey’s whispers:

\- Watch out. Don’t upset her, play along for now.

You gulp down at the implications of his words.   

From the darkness slowly emerges a murky silhouette: you can’t make out the traits on the person’s face, though their stature is definitely standing tall over you. You can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes your mouth as you notice the compassionate smile that graces the woman’s lips. Your abrupt ease soon transforms into an anxious whine as you take in her features: though her grin is spread in an agreeable curve, the crimson and bulging eyes that adorn it highlight a hungry and malevolent air in the thickness of her white fur, one that is only matched by the callousness of her serpentine horns on her head. Her voice is a gurgle, like lungs full of water, which has you conclude that this is most definitely the form the Devil would take if he had to.

\- Oh, you poor thing… Are you stranded, sweet child? You seem hurt! Here, let me help you.

She extends a paw with razor-sharp fingernails, expecting you to take it. She glances on either side of her for a second, as if expecting someone, then returns her attention to you. While reason commands you to run while you can, fear motions you to accept her hand.

\- That’s it. Let me guide you home, it is dangerous for you around here.

A satisfied grin plastered on her face, she tugs a little too harshly and franticly on your hand, having you tumble on your feet without respite. Devoid of any explanation, she leads you further into what Flowey had called the ‘’RUINS’’, yet unaware of his presence in your coat. While on your way, she mumbles something about puzzles –pulling levers and the sort. You can only focus on her paw never releasing your hand, the tip of her claw-like nails indenting your skin. A multitude of what you guess are other monsters – frogs with slimy skin, radishes with a toothy mouth, one-eyed imps- halt their occupation to look at your cortege, a flickering hunger visible in their eyes while they follow your receding silhouette. A single glance from the goat-like monster dismisses them though, and you shudder thinking just how threatening she is.

You finally arrive at what surprisingly seems like a cozy little home, the sort of which you would find nestled in a patch of woods, reclining on the slope of a coursing river. The inside decorations match the exterior impression, causing you to relax unwillingly despite the hold the goat lady still retains on you.

\- Let me show you to your room.

You’re left in a confused daze as she still pulls your hand, steering you towards the right hall. You still have time to notice the stairs descending into a dark basement, though you can’t make out anything else of importance in the house as you stop in front of the first door in the hall.

\- This will be your room from now on, my dear.

Her eyes glimmer with a prideful glint.

\- Please get yourself something to change and clean yourself. I’ll be waiting for you right here, don’t you worry now.

With a strangely gentle push she shoves you into the room, closing the door behind you without giving you a chance to utter a single word. This room… It’s weirdly childish, but perfectly immaculate and well kept. The walls are a faded pink, harmonizing with the child-size bed in the corner. Diverse ornaments and trinkets are scattered about the room, on desks and dressers and shelves; pictureless frames and lacy pale dolls and plastic toys.

A wriggle in your coat has you snap out of your observation: Flowey peeks around your shoulder, his petals fluttering around his distressed face. You whisper to him, wary of the monster on the other side of the door.

\- Is that what you were trying to warn me about? This goat lady is nightmarish looking! What’s with her kid obsession?

Still tense on his stalk, Flowey returns an answer.

\- She… She’s possessive of children… especially humans. She lost two of her own kids a long time ago… She went crazy with grief. Every time a human falls down here, she willfully takes care of them, but… she cages them to prevent them from moving on or exiting the RUINS.

He looks over at the display of wide-eyed dolls.

\- She’ll make you into a soulless puppet.

Your whole body quiver in fright at the image of your life in prickling frills and cold chains, the goat lady ever keen on keeping a watchful and sanguine eye on your static form. A series of subtle knocks has you jump out of your illusion, Flowey snaking down his way down your back and under your clothes. A muffled voice is heard through the door.

\- Are you alright, dear? Do you need help dressing up?

Her voice is eager, her furry hands lightly scratching against the door’s surface. You bolt to the dresser you guess contains fresh clothes, stammering a hasty response.

\- N-No, I’m okay, almost finished!

You push aside the obvious children’s clothing, picking out carelessly a pair of leggings and skirt with a thin white blouse to replace your own torn jeans and shirt.  Quickly changing, you think it wise to put your jacket back on, but Flowey stops you.

\- No need for it right now. While she’ll be occupied with you, I’ll scout the house and check if the exit is still untouched as I remember it.

A wave of gratefulness washes over you and you thank him softly, feeling a budding affinity with this strange talking flower in this strange unknown world. Flowey almost seems to blush, but he bolts under the bed, all features indistinguishable into the darkness that spreads there. Anxious as you are to once again be face to face with the monster outside the room, you stretch your arm to open the door –but a small, metallic flicker in the toy box gathers your attention. You can’t help but be attracted to it, as if the hidden object was calling unto you, holding an odd power over you. Bending over and reaching for it, you drag out a …. A knife? In a child’s toy box? The hilt is cold, but your hand wraps perfectly around it. The blade… it’s made of plastic. It’s a toy knife. The tension that filled the air dissipates, and you slide the knife under the fabric and elastic of your skirt, readjusting the shirt over it: The material is still hard, and it’s the best subtle weapon you have right now if the need comes to defend yourself.  As you straighten the hem of your skirt, the door is suddenly opened to reveal the goat lady, her eyes darting around the room then settling on you. Your heart beats loudly at how close you were to be in trouble – in worse trouble than you already were anyway.

\- Ah! How cute you look my child! Just like a doll! Do not be afraid, I’ll make sure you are well taken care of here. Come now.

Once again taking your hand, she leads you on the opposite side of the hall, into a living room encompassed by the heat of the fireplace crackling. If you weren’t in the hands of the over-protective monster, you’d find the ambiance soothing. There’s a large, cushiony chair in front of the fireplace. Without releasing you, she sits gingerly into the love seat, dragging you upon her lap. You tense up as you feel her calves push into your own, her breath fanning the side of your neck from the proximity of her prominent nose, her generous chest providing leverage for your back. You really do feel like a child in comparison to her. As she holds you in place, she pulls a book from the side of the armrest, opening it before you so you can glance at the pages with her.

It’s actually a book filled with facts about snails and how to prepare them. An. Entire. Book. You’re not even sure why you’re surprised, considering the situation you are presently stuck in. What could a goat demon actually eat? Contemplating her nearly-satanic form, you would have expected her to nourish her hunger with the essence of souls from the innocent. So…You guess snails aren’t a bad alternative. The goat lady reads certain facts out loud and your frame hardly suppresses the shivers as her breathing makes the hair dance on your collar.

\- Did you know you can bake the most exquisite and fleshy pie with them? You just have to watch out for the shells.

While she says this, she begins smoothing the hair on your head, sliding down to the very beginning of your back. She continues such ministrations until she finally closes the aforementioned book, returning it to its original cache. She resumes her petting on your hair, her right hand creeping up the length of your thigh. You freeze. You can’t move and you doubt you’re even able to breathe.  You don’t like where this is going. You are now wheezing –not that you can actually hear it, the way your brain is sent into haywire as the monster’s hand reaches your hip under your skirt –your only relief is that the hidden knife rests snuggly on your other hip.

\- Shh, hush hush now… I am not going to hurt you… You are so soft; nothing like those dolls. Yet why are you so pretty like one? I only want to protect –to preserve you.

Her left hand leaves your head, adventuring under the fabric of your blouse, circling the silky flesh of your stomach, stopping short of your under-breasts. Her right hand abandons your hip, raising two furry and pointy fingers to your lips, skimming over the delicate ridges. Unfortunately, as you were afraid she would, she pushes the tip of her claws into your mouth. You provide no resistance, fearing her sharp nails might tear your jaw into a bloody pulp. Fortunately enough, she only probes your mouth gently, her fuzzy fingertips pressing lightly at your tongue and her fingernails scratching against your teeth. Her fingers retreat from your mouth, a string of saliva dripping at the corner of your mouth to your chin. However, her right hand resumes its plunge to your hip, this time digging its way further to your sensitive place. Her fingers graze your crotch over your leggings. This is a no-no. Without thinking, you bolt to your feet, turning around to meet her disapproving and smoldering gaze. Your heart beats noisily against your eardrums, suddenly realizing the possible implications of your actions.  You deliver the only answer your overheating brain can manage at that moment.

\- Do you… Do you think you could bake one for me? A snail pie, I mean…

As you are entranced by the way you wring your fingers together, you notice the monster’s softened but still chastising look. You decide to add a bit more.

\- I’d really like it… Mom.

You hear her take a sharp inhale, and you raise your chin to give a sheepish glance to the complete the trick. Her expression is one of bottomless motherly love and for a moment guilt tugs lightly at your heart, though it soon vanishes as memories from your petting inscribe themselves in your mind. The mirth in the woman’s voice is almost palpable as she springs up from her seat.

\- Oh, of course my child! I will get to it right now! You should get some sleep while I prepare it. I will come and get you when it is ready. You do remember where your room is now, do you?

You nod and turn around, not waiting a second more to be out of her reach. You are careful not to seem too eager to run off while she watches you, but when the clanking of bowls and utensils drums at your ears, you scurry to the room you were in earlier, desperately needing Flowey’s directions to the exit the soonest possible. You call out his name softly –but no one answers. The space beneath the bed is dark and empty. Maybe he is still looking for the exit? Too frightened to dare take a peek outside, you plunge onto the bed, the wooden bedpost creaking in reprisal. Though your legs dangle over the bed, it isn’t long before the coziness and smell of fresh covers swirl and suffocate the preoccupations in your mind. The exhaustion caused by the overwhelming events courses through your body, sending you off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

. . .

When you wake up, you find yourself strangely refreshed in spite of the soreness overtaking your muscles. There is a supple texture wrapping around you. You open your eyes to witness the blanket that has been laid out upon you, a bit disgruntled and wary of the monster that undoubtedly watched you sleep.

Shaking off your drowsiness, you drag yourself out of the bed, noticing a plate on the bedside table alongside a note. "I hope you rested well. Please eat up the pie I baked for you! -Toriel". At least you knew her name now. The cursive letters are unbelievably intricate for someone with such sharp nails and you wonder how she managed not to tear the paper. The well-cut pie beside it looks surprisingly normal at first glance, although a closer look reveals a gooey texture you would not dare touch -or taste for that matter. Straightening up and smoothing your clothes, you are disappointed to find yourself alone again. Flowey is not yet around. Worry and dread whirls around in your head: he was the only support in these weird, dire times. Your thoughts are cut off by a light, almost inaudible scratching against the floor panels and your head turns immediately to welcome Flowey sneaking from under the door gap. The flower itself looks relieved, now assured of your well-being. He wastes no time with reunion chitchat.

\- We have to hurry! She looks asleep for now, so now is our time to attempt an escape.

You couldn't agree more, but at the same time, contemplating your future made you feel a gripping and nauseous uneasiness. Where would you go? What would you do? The way Flowey had talked when you met him, there were more monsters outside the RUINS, just as eager to take a bite of you. For a split second you even consider that maybe you would be better off staying here, with that children obsessed goat. If you could comply to her whims, you'd be safe, right? You let out a soft chuckle at that; earlier you wanted nothing more than to end your pathetic life, yet here you were trying to preserve it. Flowey seems confused for a brief moment, his traits twisting in a pitiful display.

\- We'll be fine, I'll help you! I couldn't help the others before, but I- I'll make sure you're safe! Please trust me erhm-

He stutters, obviously realizing he did not know your name -an answer you immediately provide to his distraught complexion.

\- Right! Trust me! There's a way back for you! Now, we have to hurry if we want to make it out of here unnoticed.

 You nod, your determination renewed, a bizarre, fluttering feeling rooting itself in your chest: you suddenly feel alive. You gather your jacket, snuggling into it and allowing Flowey a perch on your shoulder. Cautiously, you open the door to peak at the silent hallway. No movement, no sign of life in the near vicinity. Flowey points a leaf towards the obscure stairway. You carefully slide on your feet to reach it, shoes in hand, watching out for any suspect noise. Once your hand finds the railing, you already feel like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. You resume your descent, aware your quest is not yet finished. You don't see much in the basement: there is only a tiny, flickering flame burning atop a candle, barely illuminating the length of the corridor. As you progress further, hand on the wall and following Flowey's whispered directions, you could swear you hear a shuffling noise upstairs, but the mad pulsing of your heart at your eardrums has you almost deaf to anything else. After what seems like an eternity, you end up in a wider area, supplanted by a door. Euphoria washes over you. You stumble to the exit, Flowey almost flying off your shoulder as your palms flatten a little too harshly on the door.

You push against the stone door with the excitement of a little child entering a candy store. Except... It doesn't budge at all. You double your efforts. Nothing, not an inch. The cold air lapping at your feet from under the door only serves to excruciate the pain of defeat. Flowey seems as distressed as you.

\- I swear it wasn't locked earlier! I'm sure of it! I'll see if I can do anything from the other side.

He creeps hurriedly past the door. You put your shoes back on. Weary and defeated, you press your forehead to the door, relishing the silence in which you bask.

\- I placed a barrier on it. You will need this if you want to get past it.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest as you twist around, the voice unpleasantly close to your position. Toriel's voracious features are illuminated by a small flame blazing avidly in her right hand. Her left hand holds up a key on a chain, its faint glistening taunting you. She chuckles at your expression while tucking the key under her dress around her neck.

\- I would not let you go that easily, my child. I knew that little wretched creature must have been trying to thwart my intentions... Where is he, that bastard?

Her last words are closer to a gnarl than actual speech. Her blood-injected eyes scout the room, fruitless.

\- The coward! Ignoble creature, he must have left you once he had done the necessary, did he not?

You consider the possibility of the scenario, seeing as Flowey was taking so painfully long to return. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, your throat burns, stings and knots. You're losing hope and Toriel notices: she doesn't hesitate to use that to her advantage.

\- Poor, sweet thing! I would never do such a thing to you. Here, come to mommy.

She approaches slowly, leaving the flame floating behind her, arms wide open for an embrace. You shake, biting your lower lip.

\- I only wish to protect you.

You are backed against the door, hands under your jacket.

-They, Asgore, will kill you. He will have your head. His minions are everywhere.

You feel a tingle on your ankle.

-Here, you will be given safety, love; your end is sure to be painless.

She inches closer and closer. Her eyes are pools of void, abyssal wells of crimson seas. The air on her nose bristles with each breath, her jagged teeth gnawing aimlessly at the air like on a piece of bloody meat. Her hands take hold of your shoulder. You don't hesitate.

Sliding the toy knife out of your skirt's waistband, you seize it expertly, plunging the hard tip in the monster's right eye as violently and deep as you can. Her hands immediately release you, cradling her head has you remove the not so armless toy knife from her dripping eye socket.

-Spoiled brat! I have warned you!

She glares at you with searing wrath, her one bulging eye as fervent as a volcano's heart. Her hands rise to the air, palms spread out as she invokes dozens of sparkling and smoldering flames.

\- I will try to be gentle... I would not want to waste such a fair-skinned specimen for my collection!

She laughs hysterically, preparing to launch her attack. She is interrupted by a golden flash suddenly straddling her neck. Flowey tries desperately to choke her with his elongated roots, squeezing the flesh relentlessly amidst the fur.

-Quick! Grab the key!

You see the shimmer of the chain against Toriel's neck. You lunge, but you hesitate. It's not the key you're going for -for a reason even unknown to you, you leap toward her, aiming the knife in an attempt to pierce her second and last eye. The tip penetrates the eyelid and Toriel's shaking while she tries to free herself from Flowey's grasp has the knife twisting further into the cavity of her skull. Blood driblets scatter on your face, immediately drying and crumpling away. Flowey is stricken with a look of passive horror as he takes in the predatory grin splitting your face. He falls to the floor, still shocked from your unexpected action.

You need to end it. You want to clasp the key that jingles under the goat woman's clothes as she screams in agony, hands clutching at the two open spots on her face. But would that suffice? Surely she would come after you out of grudge. You must be safe and Flowey too.

With surprising strength, you manage to trip Toriel unto the floor, straddling her gigantic frame. Holding the knife with both hands, adrenaline pushes you to extend your arms in the air as farthest possible, pointing the plastic knife to her heaving chest, like a Damocles sword awaiting its fall. The sacrificial scene is made even more gruesome has you bring down the knife with brutal force, impaling it deep between the monster's lungs. You repeat the motion, incredibly lucky that the blade doesn't break against Toriel's rib cage. Her flailing and wheezes of pain cease a long time before your stabbing does. It's only when you feel Flowey's stalk intertwining along your arms that you realise your position. You fall back, out of breath, yourself unbelieving of what you just did.

\- It's... It's over.

Your friend's murmur is lost to the wind as Toriel's now immobile corpse dissolves to ashes, scattering lightly in the tunnel. Her dress remains on the floor, the necklace peeking dimly from it. All light has vanished with Toriel's magic, save for the single candle nailed to the wall. You get up and gently pick the chain, inserting the key in the appropriate hole on the door. There is a short flash in the keyhole, then a metallic click and the door squeaks as it turns on its hinges. You see another door ahead: hints of light peek through it and the air is even colder. But you suddenly feel empty. You squat down beside Flowey, cradling your knees and muttering an apology as tears spill on your cheeks.

You feel a soft patting on your strands of air.

\- Hey... I'm sorry too... I should have known she had another trick up her sleeve. I was naive. You were simply pushed too far; this would be a devastating experience for anyone.

You smile half-halfheartedly at Flowey's impressive kindness -you feel blessed to have a guide like him. Even your closest friends hadn't been this affectionate.

-Thanks... Thank you so much...

Your tears drop with renewed fervor, but are stop by a petal slowly cupping them under your eyes.

\- Let's go, we have a long road ahead.

You hum approvingly, allowing him to climb on your shoulder again, before advancing to the last door.


	2. Pool of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onward to chapter two! I hope this one meets your expectations.
> 
> Warning: shameless skeleton smut with some heavy dubious consent.

You would never have expected a winter scenery in a cave. Or trees. Or monsters.

The cold nips at your collar bone as you wrap your arms around yourself, while Flowey dives further into your jacket.  The path ahead is white and burrows between a forest of withered trees and a steep cliff. No option looks better than the other. You hesitate between adventuring further into the forest to conceal your steps or taking the straightforward route while being cautious of danger. In case of emergency, you still have your knife… The name ‘’Asgore’’ still rings disturbingly in your ears.

Flowey senses your doubt and proposes his own plan. 

\- The woods won’t lead us anywhere but to the Underground’s limits. We have no choice but to move forward if we want to avoid circling around. There’s a monster village up ahead though… We’ll have to find a way through or around it.

 

Since it's the only plan you have, you have to go with it. The snow along the road crunches and races around your ankles with your trudging, leaving two furrow-like trenches after your passage. You are relieved of the stuffiness of the cavern, but you curse the unexpected cold and your lack of better clothes. You cross path with a stick in the middle of the road. Your shot at kicking it away has your feet hurting and Flowey snickering humorously. You poke the space above his eyes playfully, enjoying the small moment of laughter with him.

You're reflecting on the last events as you are still unable to process the existence of monsters and magic. How could the human race be unaware of them? Why are they huddled down here? Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop as you hear a loud cracking behind you. You freeze -both literally and figuratively. Swift turn around. But there's no one. Except... That branch... It's now split in two. You look over at Flowey whom is as puzzled as you are. You accelerate a bit, a plain wooden bridge in sight. The entry seems barred though, as trunks of trees are lined to form a barricade, their circumference outlined with barbwire. The gaps in-between are probably just large enough for you to pass if you squeeze a bit though. As you near its ledge, a deep, syllabic voice causes you to halt.

\- hey, human. don't you know how to greet a new pal?

His voice is a rumble, its echoes rippling like sharp nails on a chalkboard and sending shivers up your spine.

\- turn around and shake-

Fuck off. You're not falling for that one again. You hurry on the bridge, crawling between two posts, tearing your jacket and leggings in the process, the barbs puncturing and grazing harshly your skin. You don't care; you continue to run past the bridge, past a wooden stand, farther onto the path ahead. Flowey clings to your arm and you take a chance to look behind you, fearing the monster might be following you -but there is nothing, not a single trace or imprint in the snow. You keep up your hectic pace while scanning quickly the surroundings behind you, until you come crashing into a hard surface and you are thrown a few steps back, holding your left cheek bone, a blistering ache spreading there from the impact.

\- wow, that's rude sweetheart. nobody taught you manners, eh?

It's the same, low, quirky voice. You look up apprehensively, taking in the appearance of  the individual standing before you. It... He's a skeleton. Skull and all, empty sockets and wide jaw stretched impossibly into a large Cheshire grin. Two pinpricks of white light are nestled into his eye sockets, staring down at you with unwavering attention. A golden tooth emphasizes the protruding maw of shark-like teeth spreading between his jaws. His hands are smugly hidden in his dark leather coat, his head crowned with its furry hood. You shudder when you take note of his simple pair of shorts, the chalky, ivory color of his legs nearly melding in the whiteness of the snow.

You walk backwards, receding from him hesitantly to put the most distance possible between the two of you. 

\- come on doll, i won't bite... unless you ask to.

You swear you see him wink, but your gaze is locked with his extended hand as he still awaits a proper greeting. Flowey is as much suspicious of him as you are. He whispers subtle instructions in your ear.

\- I'll flee further up the road to create a diversion. Take opportunity of this distraction to hide from him.

You prepare your leg muscles so you can bolt on the spot. At the same time the skeleton in front of you wiggles his hand impatiently at you, Flowey swiftly jumps out of your top, darting past the monster with an agile leap. In the short instant the latter is distracted by your friend's maneuver, you turn around and run as fast as your burning legs permit you.

Now that you think about it, you don't really have anywhere to hide, except that small open booth ahead and the misty forest behind it. You hear a muffled noise in the distance. Not being able to afford a second of wasted time, you dive behind the counter of the log stand, curling in on yourself under the counter, leaning in a corner. You recognise the sound of shuffling steps in the snow –they are just a little too loud to be Flowey’s moping about. You plaster a hand on your mouth, suffocating your heavy breathing and the foggy ropes of steam leaving your lips. The footsteps grow closer. You shut your eyes tightly, hoping the sheer force of your will will cause him to retreat.

As if hearing your prayers, all sound stops. There is only the slight whistle of wind between the trees to disturb the peace. You involuntarily relax your muscles at the lack of the skeleton’s presence, allowing yourself a much needed intake of air. Your relief is short-lived though, as the monster’s frame is suddenly hunched in front of you, darkness swirling in the cavity of his skull as his smirk broadens maniacally.

You yelp and dash out of your hiding place, though you know he’ll probably just end up appearing in front of you again. Excitement courses through your chest as you run for your life, penetrating the maze of endless trees with determination, your knees rising ever higher in a futile attempt to accelerate your rhythm. As you expected, a dark silhouette slides into view from behind a tree. His stance is as static as his smile. As you try to slow down to change direction, you trip into your own feet, splattering on the ground, face first in the snow. You hear its dreadful scrunching as you sense the skeleton coming forward to meet you. You barely have time to lift your face before he squats down and looks down on your helpless, pathetic form, roughly grabbing your chin with his chilled, bony hand to maintain eye contact.

\- enough running around for now, sweetheart? your friend didn’t last long either, hehe.

Your eyes widen in worry at the mention of Flowey. You raise a frightened glare at the skeleton, but his right eye suddenly lights up threateningly in a vermilion ruby blaze, casting shadows on his sharp features. His smile twists in a sadistic and mad grin.

\- even scared you look appealing. this look suits you. don't worry though, eh. i won't kill you... yet.

He snickers as you flinch from his words.

\- after all, i've yet to have my fun.

You are overtaken by a heart wrenching nausea and your vision blurs with black dots. Your mind is still hazy as you realize you are now seated on the ledge of the stand, the monster standing in between your legs and his arms anchored on either side of you on the counter. The skull of your aggressor is uncomfortably close to your neck, the words he breathes out raising every single air on your nape.

\- the name's sans. sans the skeleton. be sure to remember it when i claim you.

At this, his fangs sink into your collar bone, a slick and wet appendage licking at the sensitive skin. You choke on your screams as you draw blood from your lower lip, whole body tensing with apprehension more than suffering. Sans hums approvingly against the side of your neck, smelling the fresh source of liquid seeping from your mouth. When he finally unsheathes his canines from your flesh, it's only with the intention to expose your mouth to a similar treatment: from his open jaw hangs a lewd, glowing tongue in hues of red. Noticing the slight curiosity in your eyes, he wriggles it suggestively along his lower teeth. Of course you know where this is going. But unlike with Toriel, you are convinced of your incapacity to escape. You’re also pretty sure the knife wouldn’t hurt the skeleton man as it did Toriel. You'd rather die than be defiled this way. Maybe it is why the next words slip from your mouth uncensored and bitter.

\- Fucking bastard... Can a fucking skeleton even fuck a human? And then you'll kill me? You're just goddam crazy is all.

The red flame in his right eye is eclipsed at your words, his sockets two dark holes that seem to vacuum all surrounding light. The tips of his fingers scratch and scar the wood as he clenches his hands. His mouth is still slightly agape, though his tongue is now lost in the abyssal pit of darkness that is his skull. The harsh tone of his words are deafening compared to the silence of the falling snow.

\- crazy? darling, you forget this is the underground, not your little world. the reality here is different than yours. down here, if you don't comply to the law of the jungle, you're the mad one.

His magic eye promptly flares up at this and suddenly you are laid, stomach flat, on the counter, no more jacket or blouse. The cold hardens your nipples painfully through your bra, your upper body shivering both from the temperature and anticipation.

\- you're awfully dusty, babe.

His hands kneed your hips attentively.

\- you roll around in it or what?

His pelvis grinds against your butt through your torn leggings painfully, the jagged edges of his bones poking you.

\- i bet you like being dirty.

Your leggings and panties are ripped apart on your whole rear area, exposing your crotch to Sans' lustful eyes. You whimper from the cold piercing your lower anatomy and the dread of the events to come. The monster behind you whistles appreciatively, taking in the sight.

\- hehe... it's been a while since i've seen something so enticing. i won't be letting you go soon, sweet _pie_.

His fingers dip between your legs, spreading your lips and rubbing up and down your folds. Despite the cold and the undeniable feeling of violation, you can't help the physiological reactions of your body: your legs quiver, your breathing becomes ragged and you can't help the wetness that oozes from your core, enhancing the cold on your intimate parts.

\- shit babe, already so eager?

He toys mercilessly with your clit, causing you to cry out from the sudden friction. Shameful, you bite your wrist to silence your noises, burying your face on the hard surface beneath you. When Sans takes notice, the familiar nauseous feeling takes root in your being and when you blink your eyes to disperse the nasty sensation, you find yourself on your back, legs spread out on the skeleton's shoulders.

\- let me hear your screams.

With a snap of his fingers, your bra is discarded, one hand resuming his ministrations on your cunt, the other tugging at your nipple, while he bends over you to snake his warm tongue between your breasts. The weird translucent muscle then circles your forgotten nipple, his vibrant eye staring straight at you for every minute reaction. You can't help the sighs that escape your lungs. Those soon morph into cries though as his glassy fingers penetrate your already dripping entrance, scissoring and stretching your walls. Your back arches into his touch without you being able to help it.

\- huh, you already gonna beg for it now?

His voice is tinted with cockiness. You grit your teeth at his smug face, resisting the envy to spit in his face.

\- Fuck you, skeleton dick.

A hearty laughs shakes his frame as he removes his fingers from your abused core.

\- as you wish, princess.

Black out. When you cone too, you can only make out your fully naked body and a large, wide, red member hovering over your womanhood, and the monster's eternal smile amidst the confusion. The rest is white sparks and searing pain as the hard yet slimy cock impales you without ceremony, Sans burying his hard-on until your cunt swallows him to the hilt.

\- ah, shit, fuck. So freakin' tight sweetheart. That turned on for me? Aah- fucking christ.

He stays still a moment to gather his bearings, your body quaking uncontrollably from the overdrive of your nerves. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, soon freezing over on your cheeks. When Sans grabs your legs to spread them, he immediately starts a punishing pace, ramming ceaselessly until his warm shaft reaches the very depths of your core. Sans' hands hoist your legs further on his shoulders for better support, then gripping your butt cheeks until his fingertips dig into your smooth skin. The new angle allows him to penetrate you deeper and more savagely, the intrusion inducing that familiar, fluttering impression of vertigo. Every time the tip of his cock slams closely into your womb, you helplessly let out a series of acute gasps and your hands clamp down on the ledge of the counter to stabilise your bouncing body. Sans' hollow eye is closed, drops of sweat slowly rolling down the side of his skull despite the artic wind. His blazing eye bores into you, the dark pupil focused unto your face and heaving chest.

-f-fuck, babe..! you're so warm... i bet you taste as sweet as you look.

Your womanhood is suddenly emptied, the sensation both a relief and a concern. Your legs still dangle on his shoulder blades when he kneels between them. The curious looking tongue creeps slowly from his jaw while he gazes intently at you, moving it slowly down to your crotch. Your gasp then is one of intermingling horror and sinful pleasure as the muscles penetrates you even further than his cock did. The appendage seems to grow impossibly long inside your cavern, twisting and lapping at every inch of your convulsing walls. The pleasure is unbearable. Your knees press at the side of his skull, your arms resting and trembling above your head as a wave of ecstasy swishes into your lower abdomen, announcing the orgasm to come. Sans reacts by accelerating the rhythm with which he fucks you with his tongue, a hand shooting up to caress your swollen clit. Your release hits you like thunder, your frame tensing from the overflowing euphoria while the monster continues to ride out your orgasm. When you calm down and lay back, breathless, on the stand's counter, he licks up all remnants of your juices, sending jolts of sharp pleasure to your limbs from your over abused cunt.

Your legs are dropped, Sans stands up arrogantly, fangs shimmering with the evidence of your climax.

\- eh, just as i thought... i may end up eating you all up, after all.

His enormous member still stands proud in front of his pelvis, pulsing with amplified desire. You gulp down, biting the inside of your cheeks. Your throat tightens at the guilt that floors you. What had become of Flowey? You wish he was here to give you advice, to lead you. Tears overflow from your eyes, sobs wrack your body. You can’t look up at the skeleton anymore.

\- don’t be like that, honey. i haven’t hurt you, have i?

 Your grief boils into endless fuming hatred. Your voice is a seething whisper as you mouth the words that burn your tongue.

\- What have you done with him? Where. Is. He.

Of course your darkened tone doesn’t have the effect coveted. Sans’ mandible clacks exaggeratedly as he chortles gleefully.

\- why, sweetheart, wild flowers have no place outside a garden.

Your view fills with red. You want to kick him, you want to break every single one of his bones. You began thrashing  frenziedly, aiming to kick his forehead or at least his rib cage.

\- I’ll freaking kill you!

Your rioting is put to a stop as you are flopped on your stomach again, wood splinters piercing the already scarred skin,  blistering restraints  binding your wrists and ankles with magic similar to his mucky phantom limbs. Your screams of anger are muffled by a comparable gag, letting only dribbles of saliva pass the corners of your mouth.

\- wow, you oughta calm down babe.

His shaft is once again probing at your entrance.

\- else i might have to.. _bury_ you as well.

All of a sudden he is hilted inside you, resuming his unfinished business from earlier. His fingers trail grisly gashes in their wake on your back, before stopping their course on your hips, where he braces himself for a quicker, more severe thrust. You are just barely able to inhale and exhale from your noise as all air is coaxed out of your lungs with the monster’s ruthless assault on your pussy. Pressure leaves your wrist as the restraints dissolve into fleeting scarlet streaks. It isn’t long before Sans reaches for your arms to bring them backwards, using your own body as leverage for his unrelenting pumping. You feel his generous member swell with each thrust, his grunts testifying of the closeness of his own orgasm.

\- shit, you’re clenching so hard around my cock, fuck! hypocrite slut, you want me to make you –fuck- come again, don’tcha?

Despite your denial, you sense your inner walls contracting against him. Your back subconsciously curves unto him, allowing the tip of his dick to swipe repeatedly against that sweet, blissful spot. The gag on your mouth disappears as your release explodes in the pit of your stomach, a long moan being drawn out of your throat as you feel the rush of oxygen going to your head. Sans spills a hot, gelatinous seed into your deepest parts, the excess trickling down your thighs. Your upper torso now lays motionless on the hard surface as Sans retreats from your ravished womanhood. As a billowing darkness once again engulfs you, the last thing you hear is the skeleton’s snickering as he bends over you.

\- hehe, i think paps’ll like this one…

Emptiness befalls you as you close your eyes and you float into limbo for an indefinite time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading :D! If you have any suggestion or advice, do leave them below!


	3. Dirty Caucus Race

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I was was so sick these last few days I could barely stand up in the shower. But as we say, the smut must go on! Wha? That's not it? Well, I mean, this chapter's already done, so...

There's little to no light when you come to your senses again. All you can distinguish are the slim contours of objects shrouded by a thick, murky veil. You try to blink your eyes a few times, thinking the remnants of sleep will wash off eventually, but to no avail. The stretching of your face has you realize that your lack of vision is not the mere aftereffect of a prolonged blackout: there's definitely a cloth covering your eyes, as well as another one tightly gagging your mouth. As you struggle to move, to shake, to walk -hell, to do anything- the shrill jingle of chains has you come to a grim conclusion. You've been captured -no doubt by that fucking skeleton. You grit your teeth in frustration, biting back on the leathery gag. You feel weak: both physically and mentally. You wonder why you just didn't try to jump off that cliff earlier instead of running around like your life mattered. Though a bitter regret fills you, you know the answer well enough for yourself. You were just looking for the smallest, tiniest reason to salvage the pieces of your miserable existence -really, anything to make you feel important. And Flowey provided just that. You feel dirty: like you used him and his sweet innocence. It's probably closer to the truth than you think: hasn't he saved you enough already? Yet you couldn't return the favor.

Right now you're almost grateful for the cloth filling your mouth. Else you'd certainly end up biting off your tongue to ease your self-pity.

You try to alleviate some of the pressure in your limbs: your arms hang well above your head, straining to hold up your weight. You feel your ankles are chained as well, though the restraints seem slacker, allowing your feet to dangle on the floor. As you twist your body to somehow find a position a bit more comfortable than the other, the squeaking of an opening door has you cease all movement. A gust of cold wind has you realize two important things: one, the place of your confinement seems to lead outside, and two, you are still stark naked as you feel your buds stiffen on your chest. The footsteps nearing you are slow and lazy, the person obviously sliding their feet on the floor. They come to a halt and you hear metallic hinges screeching before they resume. There's a slight shift of air around you as you barely make out a bulky form. It circles you for a while as you stay unmoving, before stopping altogether in front of you.

-i know you're awake, sweetcheeks. i can smell your sweat a mile away.

You try to kick and scream at your kidnapper, but you can barely lift your legs higher.

\- hehe, still full of spunk?

His voice now resonates behind you.

\- maybe you didn't have enough..?

A loud snack on your right asscheek has you stifle a cry in your gag.

\- unfortunately, as much as i'd like to, it's not my turn right know.

You make out a volatile red spark through your blind, hovering uncomfortably close to your face.

\- ya see babe, i got a younger brother -a real sweet thing, i tell ya. And he'd really like to meet a human for himself. The thing is... If i'm not there to watch him, he might break your neck in his excitement.

You feel his fingertips ghost along the back of your neck.

\- as sweet as he is, the more excited he gets, the more he tends to be brash and break things.

His hand slides to your sides and he fingers the sensitive skin there.

\- i guess what i'm tellin' ya is... If you do as you're told and comply, i might be more inclined to help ya if things turn sour between you two.

His hands now trace your stomach, travelling up between your bare breasts to finally cup your chin.

\- ya catch my drift, sweetheart?

Though you can't see anything, you can hear the obvious smile in his voice. Your lack of answer is taken as an affirmative.

\- i knew you'd play it smart.

He squeezes your hip as if rewarding you. At the same time, you hear the loud collision of the door with a wall, and an even cooler draft fills the room.

\- BROTHER! WHAT IS THIS SURPRISE YOU HAVE FOR ME? I CAME AS SOON AS I FINISHED TRAINING!

The obnoxious tone has you wince a bit, though the new voice still remains coarse. His pace is rapid and mechanical. It stops abruptly once you figure it sees you.

-S-SANS?! IS... IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS?

The steps of the newcomer grow closer. Behind your blindfold, the outlines of a taller, slimmer and strangely spiky silhouette appear.

-that's right, bro: a human in the flesh.

Sans' brother takes a sharp inhale of air, as if it's the most wonderful thing he's ever heard.

-WE HAVE TO TELL THE KING RIGHT NOW! SANS! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID YOUR JOB! WE'LL BE SURE TO BE REWARDED.

Obviously, this is not going where the shorter brother intended. You're not sure yourself if you prefer the sound of the taller brother's plan.

\- now wait a minute, paps. aren't ya a bit more curious? ya haven't seen just what a human can do.

There's a slight hesitation when the other brother speaks up. His voice is suddenly a lot softer, as if sharing a secret.

\- What's that, Sans?

-well, they're smooth like a pet and...

You can't make out the rest of the conversation as it is reduced to a whisper, though the small noises of revelation of the younger brother are just audible enough for you to hear.

You suddenly fall knees to the floor as the taller monster reaches to unhook the chains that hold you up. You are unable to move yet as the soreness still spreads to your aching muscles, the strain in your wrists particularly unbearable.

-HUMAN! WE ARE GOING TO HAVE FUN! I, PAPYRUS, ASSURE YOU!

There's a surprisingly harsh tugging at the chain connecting your wrists as you are slid unceremoniously across the floor, knees scrapping along it. The creaking of springs is heard just in front of you as you discern the shape of the lanky skeleton sitting down on what seems like a bed, while you remain kneeling on the floor. Shuffling ensues as two bony legs cradle your smaller form, hard edges of boots poking at your thighs. Amidst the further brushing of clothes and distinct flutter of fabric being removed, you pick up a sizzling noise, like a light buzzing and flickering. A faint charcoal scent invades your nose and you can soon pinpoint the vivid burning of an orange flame bustling and coiling more or less where you guess Papyrus' head would be, much like Sans' red eye was. Your gag is then swiftly removed, causing you to inhale greedily the fresh air. You don’t have that much time to breathe though as your head is brought lower, sinking between the skeleton’s femurs. You feel a lukewarm heat tickling your lips, and you recognize the same auburn color extending in a long, phallic shape. You don’t need an extra hint to guess what that is, or where it’s going next.

-NOW HUMAN, OPEN WIDE.

Bony fingers intertwine in your hair as you are pulled harshly forward, lips meeting with the tip of the monster's erection. You feel its leaking warmth, the hard yet slightly malleable texture prodding at your mouth.

-NOW HUMAN, I AM NOT ONE FOR PATIENCE...

You recall Sans' words. The hand at the back of your neck tightens its grip, the strain making you flinch. Papyrus takes this moment of hesitation to plunge his length into your mouth, a surprisingly sugary ooze coating your tongue. Papyrus' hand twitches in accord with his shaft. Your tongue coaxes his member experimentally, almost enjoying the taste of him. The skeleton's hand release its hold on your nape to move on top of your hair, smoothing it in place as your wet muscle travels slowly up and down the length in your mouth. His appreciative groans have you heat up involuntarily, your lack of sight overwhelming and enhancing your other senses. You decide you might as well get this over with: slacking your jaw, you begin swallowing more of his impressive cock in your cavity, its tip soon pressing against the back of your throat.

-shit, bro, she's really giving it to you now, is she? Wasn't that cooperative with me.

You resist the urge to reel back and jump the shorter skeleton's bones. Instead you concentrate on the task at hand.

-WELL, NOBODY CAN RESIST THE GREAT PAPYRUS' CHARM.

You’d rather have him silent as well. You hollow your cheeks to add suction to your sucking, drawing back to the tip and swirling your tongue around it before sliding back down while tracing its underside lazily. A sharp moan indicates that you're currently doing a good job. Though your hands are shackled, you have just enough moving space to grasp the base of Papyrus' cock, coating it generously with the saliva overflowing from your mouth. You proceed to pump the part of his member that you can't manage to pull into your mouth, syncing your sucking and the movement of your hand. Lewd sounds fill your ears, a symphony of the monster's growls and the loud, watery "pops" every time the air escapes your tightening lips at his tip.

It's not much longer before Papyrus' hand shoots back to hold your head harshly, bringing you down on his ectoplasmic dick faster and rougher until you feel the familiar bulging coursing along it, before a hot, similarly tasty liquid explodes in your mouth, splattering on your tongue and the back of your throat. As you shy away from the absurd quantity of seed filling your mouth, a bony hand is suddenly clasped on your mouth.

-MAKE SURE YOU SWALLOW IT ALL UP, HUMAN.

You feel another hand pinch your nose. Soon the amount of air entering your lungs has you light-headed and you begin swallowing down the magmatic liquid, a sparkling sensation prickling your throat. Papyrus hand shifts to hold your jaw in a vice-like grip between his thumb and index, the acute pain forcing you to open your mouth to him.

-HOW NICE AND CLEAN! I THINK I'LL REWARD YOU FOR YOUR GOOD JOB, HUMAN.

You should have expected that much; no way you would be let off that easily. You scramble back a bit, trying to free yourself from the skeleton’s firm grasp, but failing to do so as your back comes crashing against the shorter skeleton’s pair of legs. Papyrus’ grip is still unrelenting as Sans clasps your shoulders to shove you unto his brother’s lap. The latter emits a small noise of reprisal as you hold yourself reflexively, palms spread out on his chest piece, a seemingly sleek metal armor covering his rib cage.

-TUT-TUT, HUMAN. DON’T YOU KNOW NOT TO SPIT ON KINDNESS WHEN IT IS GIVEN?

You are promptly turned around so your back rests on Papyrus’ chest, your butt awkwardly lingering over his pelvis, where the prominent swell of his member nudges dangerously close to your entrance.

-BROTHER, IF YOU WOULD.

 

-sure thing, bro.

 

You hear small flicks as the chains on your ankles are suddenly undone, allowing the blood to pump anew in your lower limbs, the troublesome sensation itching and crawling. The next time Papyrus speaks, it is incredibly low and close to your ear.

-You should grab onto me, human.

You barely register his words as your legs are abruptly spread, the monster’s hands hitching under your calves to lead you onto his erection, the elongated member slipping between your already damp folds. You have no time to brace yourself as he then enters you with one swift movement of his hips. The sheer force with which he penetrates you has you throw your head back in a silent scream, head lulling back limply on Papyrus' chest.

\- I WARNED YOU, HUMAN.

You hear Sans' chuckling in front of you.

\- heh paps, ya'll break her if you're that rough with her ... gotta make her last, hehe.

The taller skeleton slowly inches out of your womanhood, smearing your juices along his pulsing shaft. You only hear him "tch" in response. You suddenly feel strangely empty, the extremity of his slick appendage teasing at your entrance before filling you up oh so blissfully -you catch a moan by biting your lip before it leaves your throat. Papyrus then picks up a faster, harsher pace, fucking you deep with long, full thrusts. Your breathing is ragged and you squeal lightly every time his hips come up to meet the fall of your own, the monster still supporting you with impressive strength.

-HEY SANS. THINK YOU COULD LEND ME A HAND?

He groans as his pumping continues.

-the gal can still take more, huh?

The short skeleton's steps grow nearer. There's a shove at your legs as your upper body is angled closer to Papyrus, his ethereal dick curving almost painfully inside you. A second pair of hands spread your legs further, and you soon pinpoint the poking of a second slimy appendage rubbing up and down your folds. You freeze in realisation.

-The fuck are you doing?! This will never fit! You're going to tear me apart!

-HOLD STILL, HUMAN. DON'T MAKE THIS HARDER ON US.

Papyrus thrusts up to emphasize his point.

\- hehe, besides babe, you're not that knowledgeable about monsters, are ya?

The area around your crotch promptly heats up at his words, a familiar scent tickling your nose as a wave of magic flares up between your and Sans' frames. You can only arch your back further as a new sensation enters your core, like another shaft swelling up but melding with Papyrus' already present member. You feel overwhelmed by the sensation: warmth pools to your womanhood, you're sweating profusely and you can't properly breathe as two (or is it one bigger?) junks are shifting ceaselessly inside you, seemingly molding to your walls. There's an indescribable pressure building in your lower abdomen as the two brothers begin to move in sync and you have to fling your arms back to hold on to something, thus encircling Papyrus’ neck to prevent yourself from tumbling away due to the brothers’ monstrous rhythm.

-shit, she really looks like she's enjoying herself over here.

You are even unable to throw back a snarky comment at his mocking tone, the pleasure numbing your mind. You can- you only want to lose yourself in this feeling, the blissful pumping of their cock in unison sending you ever closely to the edge every time you feel them hilt inside you, an impression of warm liquefaction taking place in your womb. But it's almost not enough - until you feel a pair of fingers reaching to toy briskly with your clit. You don't know whose it is, and frankly you don't even care at the moment, reveling in the crashing wave of ecstasy that shakes your whole body thoroughly, your walls clenching hard at the monster cock violating you. Deep grunting behind and in front of you signals you that you're not the only one reaching climax; and the searing ropes of cum filling you to the brim soon testify it.

It feels like an eternity before there's a shift beneath you, softly bringing you back to reality. The skeletons' shafts soon dissolve in a wispy, ephemeral smoke with that weird tingling sensation. You're so exhausted you can't even afford an effort to get off the taller brother as Sans withdraws from your form. Papyrus takes upon himself to lift you off his pelvis: you offer no resistance as he lays you on the bed. You're so drained from your adventure and all that frolicking that it doesn't take long before the comfort of the mattress lures you into a dreamless sleep. The two skeleton brothers linger a bit, fixing their clothes.

\- what did I tell ya, paps? there's just no comparin' to a human woman.

The younger brother seems to brood a bit, more or less agreeing with the older one.

\- I CAN'T DENY THAT, SANS. BUT YOU KNOW IT'S MY DUTY AS HEAD OF THE ROYAL GUARD TO BE ON WATCH FOR HUMANS. IT'S WHAT WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG.

Sans shrugs his shoulders, dismissing his brother with a carefree wave of the hand.

\- eh, we can always talk about that tomorrow... or after another round of this.

Papyrus sighs at the easy-going nature of his big brother before following him out of the cell and locking it, not bothering to chain you up to the ceiling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my pointless, senseless skeleton porn.   
> Keep on being fabulous:D!


	4. Luck Sends You A Little Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME  
> I JUST COULDN'T RESIST!!!!  
> I really wanted to make a gender-bend version of Undyne, regardless of the canon or what it implies for her relationship with Alphys. BUT SERIOUSLY. Go look up that sexy hunk of a gender-bend fish. I hope you will understand my woe!!!
> 
> And well, if that's your thing then... You are served!

You wake up with a jolt, sitting abruptly in the bed on which you had fallen asleep. Your chest heaves up and down for a long time before your breathing calms down and you can gather your thoughts. You aren't chained up like the first time: your legs are still free from the events earlier, leaving only the blindfold on your eyes and the metallic binds restraining your wrists. You manage to reach up to the back of your head and loosen the cloth covering your eyes, the still knotted fabric falling around your neck. You have to blink and rub your eyes several times before you can make out anything clear in your surroundings, sleep yet lingering in your eyelids and your irises shifting to adjust to the poor quantity of light.

You're in some kind of windowless wooded shack. Similar barbed beams to the one on the bridge outside the ruins enclose you in a small cell, garnished with only the mattress you're resting on. As the cold seeps through the barely isolated shack, you spot your much coveted clothes...On the other side of the cell. You curse under your breath, approaching the bars on wobbly legs to examine them. These ones are too tightly encased to allow you to slip past them. There is a door that would lead you out -locked of course. You push it uselessly out of frustration, eyeing your clothes and a second door ahead (probably leading outside) enviously. You kick it lightly in a vain attempt, resulting only in a sore foot. That and... Creaking? You shove again at the door. There's a slight shifting from the pole next to it as it vacillates with the resonance from the door. You continue your assault on the door, hoping to dislodge the stump while remaining cautious of the sounds produced. After a while of sparse ministrations, there's finally a welcomed cracking as the weak bar finally slumps slightly over from the repeated shocks, crooning limply to rest against the door's frame. You only have to watch out for the barbs as you step over the remnants of the cell bar.

You bend down gingerly to pick up your clothes, frowning at their torn state. While the skirt is salvageable, your panties and leggings are scarcely covering anything. You figure it's better than nothing in this freezing weather. As you look at your worn blouse, you realize you don't even have the means to put it on: your shackles prevent you from inserting your arms in the sleeves. Same thing with your jacket- at least you can drape it over your shoulders and stuff the blouse in one sleeve, hoping you’ll eventually free your wrists. A faint clinkering attracts your attention as you shake the jacket to cover yourself to the best you can manage. You look down to spy the plastic knife, somehow miraculously conserved in the pile of your clothes. You hurriedly slide it back in the waistband of your skirt, somehow comforted by its cold surface against your skin. Lastly, you put your shoes on, motioning for the door that will lead you outside. You break it open slowly, afraid someone might be standing guard in front of it. But there's only the push of the wind against the door.

You slip your head past its frame, scanning the path ahead. On your right seems to be a small, almost lifeless village: few lights flicker in the snowy distance. The shack in which you were confined is adjacent to a larger house, the skeleton brothers’ you presume. You feel or perceive no movement from within, the unkept, frosted windows beaming no light on the outside. On your left the road continues in a rather straightforward way, devoid of any building. That's where you'll have to go. You glance around one last time before hurrying out of the shack, careful not to let the door slam.

Adrenaline suddenly rushing up your body, you sprint for the longest time you can, only halting when the village is out of view. You look back a moment and listen to make sure nobody followed you. Once you're certain the only thumping heard is the one of your heartbeat in your ears, you resume your advance at a jogging pace. After a short while, there’s a break in the trees that border the road: you spot a flowing river despite the freezing cold, burrowing farther into a gaping cave. Approaching its dim entryway, you peer into the darkness, silent unease filling you.  Favoring the uncertainty of the cave’s contents to the fate lying behind you, you penetrate further into the abyss, walking with your hand to the ridged and dank wall. The river courses alongside you for a bit more, the sound of its lapping watery tongues soothing your tension.

You finally near an enclosed space, the river forking further away where the darkness is thicker. Your path is dimly illuminated by gleaming rocks embedded in the cavern's roof, resembling a starry sky on a cloudless night. You come across a wooden stand similar to the one in the woods past the ruins. You shudder just taking in its shape, memories imprinting their forms in your mind. You're incredibly glad for the lack of further monsters on your path as you tighten the jacket around yourself. Eventually you must cross a series of bridges overlaying vertiginous waterfalls, the whispering of their clattering waters plunging deep in an unfathomable chasm below. The scenery somewhat leaves you breathless at how serene it is, contrasting harshly with almost everything you had come into contact up to now. Still, as you watch the surroundings that unfurl around you in awe, you cannot help but feel as though you are being watched. The feeling has you curling in on your frame, your still shackled hands grasping desperately at your arms to cross them as best you can.

The grotto's corridors are a maze of dead ends: you've turned up in so many empty and pointless rooms that every time a choice comes up, you prefer the straightforward way. Even if that involves having to wet yourself; it seems nobody thought it a good idea to build a bridge over one of the largest waterfalls you had yet to come across. Although when you indecisively submerge your right foot into the cold water and a falling rock has you almost tumbling to your doom, you presume that any bridge that ever was there must have been shred to pieces. Several more pieces of rubble make their way down the currents as you attempt to cross, their straying bodies all dipping down the final slope without ever producing a sound. You pass a strange patch of long fluttering herbs that stick to your skin as you clear a path through them. You have to yet again cut across ponds of water further ahead, as the only link between banks are platforms of ostensibly fragile and roseate flowers: there’s a raw twinge at your heart at the idea of ever stepping on them –you’re not even sure they could actually support your weight.

You are impeded on your travel once you come to the next area, an obscure and caliginous passage where the number of glowing rocks diffuses only a blurry light. More importantly, there are numerous firm-looking flowers strewn about the room, their stalk growing securely out of the cavern’s craggy soil. You approach the nearest one, the muted radiance it emits tinting you in hues of blue. It looks almost as if made of glass, the iridescent surface mirroring the canopy’s rocky stars. As you stretch your hands to take in the smooth, almost gelatinous texture of its petals, a sudden echo has your heart rising to your throat.

_Heh. No one’ll ever know._

For a moment you think you made the same mistake you made when you first met Flowey in the ruins: you take an apologetic stance towards the flower, but it remains lifeless. You turn around, frightened somebody might have been standing behind you. But there’s no one. You remain edgy until the same phrase is repeated –indeed by the strange flower. You examine it closely, dumbfounded just as how the voice could come from it. You part ways with it with mild interest, delving further into the cave. Nevertheless, you accelerate your walking rhythm once you pass the other flowers, their resounding speech leaving goosebumps on your skin as it reverberates on the walls.

_They’ll never find you._

_You’re lost. Hopeless._

Even though they’re just flowers, you can’t bear to stand near them any longer, so you begin running hoping you’ll end up somewhere without them.

The next one has a different tone, pleading.

_H e l p.  .       .  m   .         .                 . eeee e   ee       e.         .                 ._

And the articulate words resume with the following plant.

**_But nobody came._ **

You finally exit the room in a panicked state, leaving the echoes of a blood curdling scream behind you.

Thankfully the next segment of road is devoid of any of these horrific things. You wonder if they were placed there to voluntarily discourage any adventurer. Putting the thought at the back of your mind, you proceed ahead on zigzagging docks, while the only vegetation garnishing the path of the dark still waters beneath you are completely normal-looking cattails. Still, you now remain suspicious of anything that could unexpectedly spring to life.

You once again push through thick sticking herbs before-

**Oh, hell no.**

There they are: more fucking creepy talking flowers –not the good kind. Not the Flowey kind. You’re not having any of this shit right now. When you either have a chance to take the convoluted, flower-stricken, but dry road or the shorter, water-drenched path, you don’t hesitate: you jump almost gleefully feet first in the ominously cyan waters, your legs fading immediately under their surface once drenched. Though you have some difficulty maneuvering yourself through their odd thickness, you reach the other side in one piece and, most importantly, with one less mental scar to add to your count.

The area that opens before you is much larger than any other in the cave and you are grateful for the breathing space, relieved from the darker, claustrophobic zones and passageways. The atmosphere is also much warmer, humidity gathering on the expanse of the spherical cupola of the grotto, the droplets of water shimmering with the refulgent pebbles suffusing on its crown. The vast opening leads onto four different paths it would seem: three in the same direction on your left, and one straight ahead. You decide to keep your earlier decision and move on forward, thinking the other ways probably lead into a stalemate anyway. A pool of clean, translucent water nested in the center of the chamber catches your eye though, and you stop beside it, kneeling down and cupping your hands to scoop up some water to quench your thirst. The sensation of the temperate water against your parched throat has you moan in satisfaction. You look to the bottom of the body of water, the level seeming reasonably high; it would maybe rise to your chest. Your ripped and wet clothes cling uncomfortably to your limbs. You feel dirty, sweaty and dead tired, and the water looks so inviting, so relaxing. You can’t help but want to bathe in it and wash all the dust and body fluids away. Knowing fully well the idea is not a wise one, you still try to convince yourself of the benefits of a quick dip. No one has followed you yet, the cave is completely hollow save for the presence of those god-awful flowers and it would give time to your clothes to dry –what if the cold is only more persistent on the other side of the cave? You can’t afford to be sick here and allow that to slow you down.

Humming approvingly, you begin undressing yourself, spreading your wet clothes on a nearby boulder, tucking the toy knife carefully under it. The knotted cloth still hangs around your neck as your cuffed hands are too clumsy to completely unfasten it. The abrupt nakedness has your body shaking with shivers and when your toes come in contact with the surface of the water, you are pleased to feel its mellow warmth. Only moments later you are submerged, your eyes closing to lose yourself in the ambient stillness as you sink into the water mouth-deep. You contemplate the events that have led you here: how strangely they motivate you to keep on striving. You suppose that now that you’ve come so close to dying several times, you can perceive the importance of your life. You’re not ready to go yet, even though you can’t figure what you’ll do once you get out of the underground. You don’t really have a place to return to anymore, but maybe you could make one of your own. The kindness Flowey showed you mustn’t go to waste; his life mustn’t have been in vain. You hug yourself at the thought. Poor Flowey… After all he must have suffered down here with these horrible monsters… And that horrible side of yourself you had shown him when mutilating Toriel until she lay dead. You still couldn’t overlook how… determined, how _thrilled_ you had been when assaulting her, as if possessed when you felt life rush back into your veins. Unlike Toriel, you only hope that Flowey had a quick and painless end.

You ponder for an indefinite moment before you are snapped out of your thoughts by steps nearing your location. You cuss at yourself and retreat against a corner of the pool, slumping to the wall with your back turned to the incoming individual. Maybe if you hold your breath long enough and sink down while the person makes its way, you could evade trouble. You only hope that whoever –whatever- is passing by doesn’t glare down the pond or notice your clothes. The steps are heavy, assured –very unlike Sans, you conclude, a bit relieved. No need for unnecessary risks though: when you hear the footsteps close enough that the person should be in your field of view, you breathe in deeply and drop below the water, praying to whatever god could be hearing your pleas. You can only perceive deafened and distorted noise as you feel the individual grow closer, until you can no longer hear anything but the moving water pulsing on your eardrums. Through your murky underwater vision, you couldn’t see anyone, not a shadow pass by: could the person be gone? You won’t be able to hold out much longer; already the tiniest bubbles escape your lips to undulate to the surface, popping weakly once in contact with the air.

Seconds later you are abruptly pulled by the hair out of the water, scalp burning from the ridiculous tension it has to endure and lungs inflating loudly to take in the fresh air.

-OY. WHADDYA THINK YOU’re…

For a moment the extremely loud voice makes you think of Papyrus, but this one is much deeper, much gruffer.

-Huh. You’re a human, aren’t’cha?

The tone is full of contempt, mockery and scorn mixing in an appalled undertone. You are instantly turned around, grip unyielding on your hair. Amidst the dull after burn of your eyes that were open in the water and the searing pain from your scalp, you still succeed in witnessing your assailant’s physique. It’s impressive to say the least: his muscular stature stands at least two feet taller over you and a wicked, sharp-toothed grin is plastered amongst the severe features of his face. His whole body is like laminated glass, the edges of jagged, leathery scales glinting in a rich, blue luster. A long ponytail of scarlet hair hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, rebel strands of hair fliting over a dark eyepatch covering his left eye; the right one bores into you with draconian fervor, the citrine eyeball aglow like a flask of fuming phosphorus.

-HEY. What’s a human doing here on my territory?!

He shakes you vigorously to emphasize his impatient haste, the carmine gills on the side of his neck flaring promptly with each of his puffs of air. When you don’t answer in the next following seconds, he lets you fall feebly on your knees, gasping for breath and massaging your skull.

-Bah. It’s not like it’s my job anymore.

His titanic form glowers down at you, arms crossed on his robust chest.

-YA HEAR?! NOW GET OUTTA HERE WHILE I-

You’re still in a bewildered daze when the pitch of his voice fluctuates unexpectedly, shifting to a sly, devious inflection.

-Huh. No, wait. What’s that?

This time you’re lifted by the cloth left tied up around your neck, the brawny fish-man examining it closely, humming its scent suspiciously.

-IT’S THAT BASTARD’S SCARF!

He looks suddenly very proud of himself, his free hand resting on his hip as he howls in a fit of gratified laughter. His stiff expression his put back before long though as he looks you up and down.

-So you’re their little plaything, huh? Out for a stroll?

He snickers treacherously as you try to protest, knowing full well just who he’s referring to.

-I’m-I’m NOT!

He cuts you off before you have a chance to say anything else for yourself.

-Huh-Huh. Then what’s this?

With one swift tug, he shatters the chain connecting your wrists. Your relief is as immense as your surprise, but both are short-lived as you process his next words.

-This’ll be my way to get back to him for the humiliation he made me endure. Don’t take it personally. Although, I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do, eh.

You’re suddenly submerged in water again, your body splashing water everywhere as you are thrown in the pond. It takes you a moment before you can gather your bearings and anchor your feet to the bottom of the pool, and when you do, you are left completely terrified of the sight before you. The merman is peering down at you with a rapacious yearning in his eye as he reaches for the hem of his black tank top, discarding it over his head. You can’t help but admire his athletic form at the same time, as you blush furiously at his rippling abs and chiselled outlines. He then fiddles with the lace of his cotton pants, and pushes them down along with his boxers and boots, leaving him standing confidently and completely naked.. You turn around before you can catch a glimpse of his bulging package in the slicker, paler area of his pelvis. You hear a loud splashing behind you and the clatter of water swishing around as the fish-man approaches you.

You retreat briskly to the opposite limit of the pool, hoping you’ll be able to reach for your clothes and hurry out of here or that he’ll simply lose interest in the chase. Yet as you stretch to exit the pool, your assaulter moves too fast for you to see and you are forcefully swung around, your back crashing to the grainy surface of the pond’s wall. The marine individual presses you there more roughly, his powerful arms pinned on your sides to the rim of the ledge. You cower, making yourself as small as possible while you try to hide your chest from his hungry eyes. His voice drips with mirth as he leans to lick the shell of your left ear.

-Maybe if I rough up their precious little possession a bit, they’ll get the hint.

You squirm and sigh as his teeth then proceed to rake down the side of your neck, leaving reddening streaks on your sensitive skin. His tongue darts at your collarbone, suckling and seeking to bruise the spot. You squeal softly as he nips lightly there. Moments later your wrists are removed from your chest and forced flat on the pool’s ledge, your aggressor’s head dipping down to tongue your stiffening buds, teeth nibbling at the tips as they harden from his ministrations. His hands then release your arms to cup at the underside of your breasts, rolling them around harshly while his mouth still sucks at one of your nipples. His simple actions are enough to kindle your arousal, causing you to rub your legs together to relieve some of the pressure and to cry out involuntarily in delight as he rocks his hardening member on your sex, the water easing up his movements pleasurably.

-A-ah-ah! God, please, don’t- Ah!

He snorts contentedly.

-Heh, the name’s Undyne. 

Your legs are promptly hoisted to his hips, his large, clammy hands squeezing your asscheeks obscenely while the tip of his cock ruts against your clit repeatedly, as the water clamors all around you. As you look down apprehensively, you can’t help but gulp at his size, the girth certainly matching his outward appearance; still, pangs of want throb in your stomach at the smooth, creamy and creaseless shaft of Undyne.

That’s why when it penetrates you slowly, your walls stretching wonderfully to sheathe him in, you let your head fall back at the sensation of fulfillment, your arms hooking around his neck for support.

-Tch. So freaking tight! I gather they haven’t used ya much, eh? That’s even better that way… I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll wish you were forever mine.

With that he’s completely buried inside you, his dick twitching with anticipation as he growls coarsely. He then proceeds to inch out slowly of your core, ramming almost violently in right after, pulling you down on his shaft with his inhumane strength. Your cries and moans are as restless as the waters stirring around your forms while he holds up his promise of fucking you senseless, hips pummeling into your own at a hectic pace. It’s when he shoves you even further to the wall, raising your legs over his shoulders, that he hits the spot: the tip of his massive cock slams time and again against it, coaxing you into an orgasm that has your whole body quiver around him. Undyne’s thrusting is inexorable and unwavering though as he keeps on plunging into your still clenching womanhood, seemingly still full of stamina despite his laborious breathing.

An instant later you are abruptly angled on your side, one leg remaining held on his shoulder while the other struggles to keep balance on the floor of the pool, your upper body holding you desperately to the portion of the dry soil it can manage to reach. Your arms are scraped against the ground in the process, Undyne still screwing you mercilessly from the new position, his shaft definitely drilling deeper into you. All the ends of your nerves are ablaze with stimulation as the haze of lust clouds your mind and you extend a shaking arm to his neck to beguile him closer. His rhythm falters a bit as a slightly startled glint flashes in his eye. This moment is almost imperceptible as his fierce assault resumes instantly and he bends down to meet you, mouths locking into a clumsy yet intimate kiss; your teeth collide once or twice with the continuous dance of your bodies shifting the water.  As your tongue both intertwine lewdly in midair –his, long, pointy and sleek- your vaginal muscles clench in the aftermath of your second climax, inducing Undyne’s own awaited orgasm, his seed shooting satisfyingly into your drenched womanhood. His gyrating movements finally relent and cease as you both catch up your breath.

It isn’t long before Undyne’s lidded eye is glaring down at you again, all impression of intimacy dissipating to the corners of the room. Still, is voice is softer than during your first introduction.

-I’ll let you get dressed. But don’t expect any more sympathy from me: I know where to deliver you to make the skeleton brothers even madder with rage. This ain’t the end for you yet.

You promptly exit the miniature lake, complying with his orders in spite of your desire to run away; he wasn’t chaining you up at least. You comfort yourself with the thought, somehow trying to justify your more obedient nature with the fish-man than the two bone brothers. As soon as you’ve dressed up, dissimulating subtly the knife so he wouldn’t notice, you turn around to see him dressed up as well. You’re suddenly scooped up in his arms and thrown over one of his shoulders as he delves deeper in the cave. Though the surprise causes you to shriek, you offer no more resistance after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave Kudos and or comments to express your thoughts!


	5. Consultation With A Lizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another! 
> 
> So I opted to keep Alphys a girl even though Undyne was genderbend... No real reason, just felt like writing her that way! Sorry if you are put off by their relationship not being homosexual/canon anymore, I didn't mean anything by it. 
> 
> Also, warning: drug-induced sex coming up, so you could consider it more or less non-con.
> 
> Please enjoy now :)!

You’re carried for a while into the cave before you reach any kind of exit: the path is even more tortuous and dark, small crystals and fluorescent mushrooms the only source of light illuminating your way. Statuesque, crystalline trees irradiate a cold, cerulean halo of misty and smothering light in the earliest room following the larger area, the peak of their fringed and prickly branches vanishing in ebony darkness. One of the final rooms has you tensing up and struggling a bit against Undyne, though he remains unfazed by your reaction. As soon as you reach the tunnel-like corridor in the room, you recognize the subdued and faint glow emitted by those whispering flowers. Your progress seems like it goes on for an eternity between the two enclosing rows of cobalt plants around you, and the fact that you are left peering at their receding form while Undyne drags you in the opposite direction only fills you with further unease. The ambient specks of golden dust soaring about the room do help assuage your fright though, as you watch their shimmering flight with rekindled attention and soon a gust of fresh air blows on your face. 

You’re only temporarily welcomed with the sight of a field of countless darting stalagmites and jagged masses of boulders dousing in a deep sanguine veil before you re-enter a long, rocky passageway. The atmosphere along the path gradually gets heavier and heavier as you progress, a film of sweat soon covering your skin and Undyne’s chapped and scaly armor. The warmth steadily increases until –godfuckingdammit! Why is it so blistering hot?!

Undyne seems to read your thoughts as he grunts suddenly loudly.

-I HATE THIS FREAKIN’ PLACE! She better be home or this place won’t be the only thing burning down.

As he speaks a crushing wave of heat hits you and suddenly a seething light burns your retinas. Once finally your eyes have accommodated to the abrupt shift in lightning, you realize you have now departed with the earlier rocky area to enter a… volcano? Or the center of the Earth. Nevertheless, as you are carried across a weak wooden bridge, you wonder with amazement how it doesn’t catch fire instantly: under Undyne’s feet spreads a sea of thick, boiling, crimson lava, the searing beads of its swelling bubbles surging up before drowning in the billowing tide of magma. The great fish-man then stops walking after a while, and you understand you’ve reached you destination as you feel the vibrations of his fist pounding unnecessarily hard against a metallic door.

-YO! YA HOME??? I GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!

The door slides open with a swish of compressed air and you are promptly dropped on the ground, coccyx aching from the aftershock. Rubbing diligently your sore bum, you look up to the individual who opened the door. Similar to Undyne’s, her skin is covered in slick scales, the amber shades of it shinning elegantly in the reddish filter of the vibrant lava.  She’s much smaller in size compared to Undyne though: if you’d be standing you’d probably be taller than her from a good head. Her reptilian form is accentuated as she peers down at you and wrings her clawed hands methodically, large circular glasses on her snout gleaming bright, rendering you unable to discern more of her traits, her expression thus unreadable. Her considerable mouth is curved in a pleased smile though, pointed and salient fangs peeking out from her hard-skinned lips. A slack white overall covers most of her body, hinting the slightest of a red and black striped shirt, the hem of a long black skirt drooping and pooling around her feet from under the torn edges of her immaculate cloak.

-You… You actually brought one?! It’s been a while since the last one.

Her words hold a foreboding meaning. You’re not sure you like them.

-Yeah, she stumbled into my turf; can ya believe she was the brothers’ bitch? They must be up and about lookin’ everywhere for her, HA!

Undyne snorts aloud and the small reptilian lady reciprocates with a small chuckle.

-Don’t worry, they won’t find her inside here… even if they could actually enter.

-I trust ya, Alphys.

You can’t help but notice the slight, awkward tension that brews between the two of them with the silence that follows. The unease dissipates when Undyne turns around and waves lazily over his shoulder.

-ANYWAY! I’M GETTING OUTTA THIS STUFFY HELLHOLE! SEE YA!

Looking at him walking back, you find yourself wishing you’d stayed with him rather than being abandoned here: save for Flowey, he was the only character that didn’t seem completely bitter. Although maybe your fate would prove to be even harsher here –maybe you’d change your idea of him once you see what awaits you. Getting up to your feet and dusting of your clothes, you turn to the lizard monster. Her eyes are still almost completely indistinct behind the thick, foggy lens of her glasses, though you notice tiny dark slits swelling to take in your appearance. Her calculating expression changes to one of an inviting host welcoming their long-awaited guest.

-Now, shall we? Don’t be afraid; let me make you a cup of tea.

As she turns around while grasping your wrist, you can’t repress the quiver that travels your spine at the familiar situation. You have to watch out for the heavy tail that hangs behind her as you walk, entering the pristine building. Everything, from the walls to the furniture, is completely white. Despite the spacious room –escalators even leading to a second level- you feel oppressed by the disturbingly irreproachable decoration. As she escorts you to a small ivory armchair, you spot a corridor ahead, looking like it might guide you outside. You take note of it. Alphys spins around to a small counter, moving pots and ware as she prepares the proposed drink. It’s not too long after that she serves you a sizzling cup of tea, the ceramic cup clattering loudly as it is dropped off on the table before you. As you wait for the liquid to cool off a bit, Alphys sits delicately in the chair in front of you, eyeing you from head to toe. Self-conscious, you grab onto the warm cup to avoid fidgeting too much. The beverage is a pleasant green, the herbal scent calming you down considerably before you even take the first sip. Maybe that’s why you let Alphys talk to you without once interrupting her.

-Don’t be surprised that everyone seems to be after you: humans down here a rare treat.

You glance up to her while taking a sip of the tea, the liquid warming your throat pleasantly.

-You see, it’s the only way any of us down here could ever hope to reach the surface, your world. Most of us won’t hesitate to reap your soul if it means getting out of here. Of course, some monsters would keep your existence a secret for their own end. It is to be expected.

You think about Sans and Papyrus, and about how the latter wanted to present you to their king, while Sans wanted to dissuade him. Alphys continues her monologue.

-They say the Queen went crazy.

You agree fiercely in your mind.

-The truth is the King is not better off: though he claims to hunt the humans down to collect their souls and break the barrier that confines us underground, it is strongly suspected that he truly finds joy into beheading them and even crushing their soul –the very essence of our freedom- to dust.

She smiles wryly at that, and for a moment you almost feel pity for her. As you discard your empty cup of tea, an intense dizziness overtakes you. You have difficulty concentrating on her next words as your head spins painfully.

-In other words, we’re stuck down here unless we find an alternative.

Her mocking smile warps into a more sadistic grin.

-That’s where I come in.

You definitely don’t feel well. The tea. It was stupid to even consider gulping down anything from a monster. As you succumb to a muddy, heavy sleep, the only things piercing through the darkness filling your vision are Alphys’ circular lens, like two saucer-shaped and ghastly beacons.

. . .

You're being carried on a stretcher through dim corridors. The wheels squeak ominously at every turn it takes. You're still out cold, your head limply shaking against the slim mattress with every move. Alphys whistles absentmindedly over you as she pushes the cart, passing one, two, three -maybe four- sets of double doors. Finally, you're settled into the center of a plain, white room, amidst tables of different equipment and tools. When you finally wake up, your wrists are restrained with leather straps and your legs hoisted unto crooked metallic contraptions, locked in place. You can barely afford to turn your head and spy the lizard scientist's back to you, fiddling with indiscernible instruments as she hums. You struggle a bit, testing the restraints. You only manage to attract Alphys' attention, as she steers towards you with a smile on her face.

-Hehe, sorry I had to... Twist your hand a bit to get you down here. Knowing what awaits you, I doubt you would have complied with me.

She circles you like a predator around its prey, gliding a sharp nail along the length of your arm as she passes it.

-human test subjects are so rare to find... I have a multitude of tests to run; the last one couldn't hold the road.

She seems pensive for a moment, tapping lightly her finger to her lower jaw.

-Although you'll probably enjoy the first experiment. This one will be for my... Personal needs.

She snickers to herself, as if having heard a good joke. Then she's suddenly right beside you, her small frame now standing like a giant over your incapacitated form. Her hand shoots to your throat, clenching at your windpipe.

-Seeing as how much you had fun with Undyne anyway.

You're dumfounded for a moment. Your confusion must be showing on your choking face, as she explains, her voice seething with disgust.

-I have eyes everywhere, my dear. ESPECIALLY near MY Undyne's house. I saw everything. Every. Little. Thing.

She pushes harder at your throat with every word. The lack of oxygen is making you nauseous again, and just as you seem to retreat into coma again, she unleashes you from her constricting grip. She swipes around, picking up something you can't quite see. She brings it closer to your exposed forearm; a glinting syringe with translucent liquid. She holds onto your arm firmly, rendering you unable to resist.

-What is this?! What are you doing? Let me go!

The needle plunges into your arm, piercing the skin to reach your vein. Seconds later the syringe is empty and Alphys retracts from you, throwing the syringe away.

-Now we wait. I'll have just enough time to prepare and fetch him.  Her steps grow farther as you're left struggling against the strange chair. But to no avail: a similar sensation to the one after you drank the tea bubbles inside you, making you dizzy. Except... Except you're hot. Goddammit you're hot. Too hot. A sheet of heat spreads to your whole body. The pressure in your lower abdomen is unbearable, you... You think you're overflowing. Fuck, you feel so... So freaking empty. You need something, anything! You begin rubbing your legs together, a futile attempt at relieving the flowing need from your drenched core. Your nipples stiffen painfully at the contact of the fabric from the hospital gown you've been made to wear. You're so enthralled in your miserable state of being denied release that you don't hear Alphys coming back in the room with a new observer. The new comer speaks in detached, almost robotic fluctuations.

-Alphys, are you sure this is going to improve the performance of this body?

-I assure you, my sweet creation; you won't ever want to keep it off. This will be sure to improve your... Imperfect state.

There's a short silence and a whisper that's almost inaudible under your recurrent sighs.

-It's not like I asked for this, anyway...

Alphys turns to the other individual and leers at him.

-Hmm? Did you say something, Mettaton?

The said individual stutters a hasty, negative answer.

-Good. The subject seems ready. Let's start the experiment.

She pushes carts closer to you, fingering on an electronic panel almost reflexively. You look at her, eyes watering from the unbearable feeling of want in your cunt. Your voice is a lot weaker than desired when you speak.

-What... What have you done..? Ma-make it stop, please...

She laughs wholeheartedly.

-Oh don't worry; you'll be served soon enough.

There's mechanical whirring noise as a robotic arm springs from the floor in between your legs. The tip of it is somewhat sharp, and you worry at exactly what it aims to do.

-Now, Mettaton, look closely at every display. I'll show you all of the settings so you may choose wisely.

Alphys then promptly picks up a tool from one of the carts, bringing it over to the robot arm. Taking in the elongated form and the deep red color, you immediately recognize the object: a dildo. Alphys proceeds to screw it tightly on the strange mechanism, leaving it standing straight and pointing at your entrance. You bite your lip despite yourself, impatient to obtain relief. There's more typing on the panel before the arm extends towards you, the simple sex toy spreading your lower lips. The slight contact already makes you shiver in ecstasy, and you're already breathing unevenly. When it enters you fully, the jelly-like texture smooth against your inner walls, you're literally crying from the pleasure of being filled. It's as it starts pumping at a regular pace into your wet hole that you're pressing down against the chair, a sweaty and moaning mess, trying to get it even deeper up your womanhood.

-Certainly eager, are you? Let's see if we raise the speed...

 The toy is now pummeling you in your seated position and you're screaming, an uncontrollable orgasm making every muscle of your body twitch as all the heat of your body shoots to your crotch, your juice spilling all over the used sex toy. You're still breathing heavily when you feel the wave of lingering warmth once more taking a hold of you, desire blooming ever stronger in your intimate parts.

-Now for the second part.

Alphys wastes no time changing the device's toy, replacing it with a longer and larger blue one with a protruding sphere at the base of it. When it's fully inserted into you, you finally understand the purpose of the small marble: it starts buzzing and vibrating on your swollen clit while the shaft of the dildo moves in unison. Your hips are jerking to meet every pump of the toy. When you throw your head back in utter euphoria as the sex device fucks you senseless, you notice the second individual approaching you timidly.

-Al-Alphys... Is... Is it going to feel that good for me too?

As the individual speaks, his form looms over you, much taller than anticipated; he stands on long, effeminate, lascivious legs. A large red metal plate with an embedded dark heart covers his chest, spike protruding on his shoulders. Oh, and he's most definitely a robot, if the two pairs of hovering and cylindrical arms are anything to go by. Otherwise, the double pair of eyes leering down at you with calculated curiosity cast all doubt away. At least you assume he has four eyes: the right side of his face is a patch of darkness under the cascade of his raven hair.

-I assure you. I'll redirect the wires in your lower abdomen to replicate the sensation of actual coitus.

As she says this the vibrator pulses harder, the thrusting motion made almost violent as you scream all out, body jerking from your second orgasm.

-Oh!

Suddenly the said Mettaton whips around, eyes widening, apparently at the new toy Alphys is handling. You can't see it from your position, but you do hear them talk clearly.

-That is...

You see the corner of a smile bordering Alphys' lips.

-I expected you would react as such; and yes, it is.

Mettaton crosses his lower arms, one of his upper arms holding on to the elbow of the other, fingers flexed pensively on his alabaster chin. He seems to brood over for a while.

-I- I'll try this one...

 His arms fall limply along his body, as if defeated.

-If you say it'll really relieve the conditions of this form.

Alphys' smile now widens triumphantly, teeth almost as blinding as the light reflecting off her glasses.

-Oh? Already chosen? You don't even want it tested first?

Mettaton's voice is suddenly much assured.

-No. This is the one I want. I'll have to test it myself after all, won't I?

You take Alphys' silence as approbation to his words.

-Well then, just come over here...

Mettaton's shadow is soon out of view, as you only hear clattering and squeaking.

-I'll turn you off while I complete the process.

There's a fading buzzing as silence befalls the room, the only disturbance the irregular rhythm of your heart and breathing. Dammit... You still feel the churning of desire within your guts. Your juices are thick with increased want, dripping from your entrance all over on the chair and floor. Even in your drug induced state, you're slightly disgusted with yourself. You hope the effects of the drug soon dissipate; at the same time you're afraid of what will follow once this "experiment" is over. There's soft drilling and clipping in a corner of the room before the slight buzzing is growing stronger again. Sounds like steel ropes gliding off pulleys are filling the lab, and Alphys hums satisfyingly.

-Perfect. You may try it on the subject.

Alphys returns to fiddle with the panel. The robotic arm is engulfed into the floor, promptly swapped with Mettaton's towering form, arms flailing about like an octopus' tentacles and pupils shifting here and there to observe you. Then you see it. The... The thing between his legs. "Toy" is too childish a term for it. "Assault gear" is much closer. There's no denying the form of it perfectly matches Mettaton's own. It stands proud on his metallic pelvis, a double shafted dildo. You've never seen the like of this: the top phallic protrusion is the largest and the thickest. Just a bit lower, between the two make-do testicles, springs a second member, thinner and a bit shorter. Their base is black, the color fading to a crimson red upon the tip. It looks like it's softly glowing, the base casting strange shadows upon Mettaton's platted body. Part of you -your needy core, mainly- twitches with anticipation. Another, though, cringes nervously at the idea of being impaled at the same time in both of your most sensitive holes. You haven't been prepared for this. You hope the amount of cum leaking from your cunt will be sufficient to ease his penetration: he doesn't look like he's going to prepare you.

Mettaton shifts closer, one pair of hands grasping your hips, the other shooting to your legs. Both of the heads of his newly installed engine soon come in contact with both of your respective entrance, the texture and the unexpected warmth of it immediately making you moan. The upper's tip effortlessly slides into your mound, the lower's one needing a slightly rough push from Mettaton and a coating of your juices before breaching your sphincter. The sensation burns and tears for a while as you notice Mettaton's gloved hands clasping more firmly at your skin. Looking through lidded and teary eyes, you see him eyes and jaw clenched, trembling and jerking slightly.

-Oh my, oh my god... So this is what... Ugh... Pleasure is supposed to feel like..!

He sheathes his double member further into you, thankfully slowly enough; you already feel so full.

-The ache in my body... It's almost completely subsiding! Ah! Electric shivers are shooting up to my head from everywhere in my body- Ah!

One last push and he is fully hilted inside you, the two shafts stretching your walls just under the level of discomfort. His steeled body is surprisingly warm against your skin.

You can't help but admire the euphoric expression gracing Mettaton's features; you're pretty sure a similar one is imprinted on your face.

-Ah, oh my- this- Ah, yes! This is the most -ugh- delightful sensation I have ever felt. It's so tight and warm and... Soft around me!

He promptly begins to inch out of your holes, the two synthetic cocks almost rubbing together through the layers of muscles separating your cavities. A strange feeling grips you, as if being vacuumed into a black hole or dragged into a gravitational pull. When the heads are the only thing connecting your two bodies -except his hands, still clinging unto you as if to dear life- he slides back in, this time much faster. You both cry out in a high-pitched symphony, the orchestra of your oscillating whines and sighs in tune to the slow but harsh pace of your seesawing bodies. It’s not long before the robot is ruthlessly pounding into you, his hands tugging you as close as possible and certainly bruising your skin. Though there is a slight jolt of pain every so often when he buries himself balls deep into you, his shafts are so warm and feel so fleshy that pleasure engulfs the strain, discomfort gradually ebbing away as you adjust to his girths. Mettaton’s soon punishing pace has you writhe against him in ecstasy while he throws his head back at the feeling of your walls desperately pulling at him. As you dip over the edge of your now third and final orgasm, Mettaton reciprocates with his own: his body becomes almost unbearably hot against yours, and though he lacks the complete apparel to fill you up to the brim, there’s a sudden but weak electric discharge shooting to your walls, forcing them to continue their contractions and extending the bliss of your orgasm.

Completely drained of all energy, Mettaton collapses over your frame, his hands splaying along your arms. His carcass is much heavier than anticipated and you have to squirm to try and encourage him off of you. He lays still though, unresponsive. Alphys nears the both of you.

-Well, it seems this experiment was a success. Although… There’s still the problem of his battery’s life.

She drags him off you with some struggles, hauling him to a corner of the room you can’t see from your position.  There’s some heavy tinkering for a while as you regain your bearings. The whole of your muscles are lax and numb from the multiple orgasms and the slight shock you received just earlier. It’s as you somewhat try to peel off the drenched fabric of the gown from your skin that you feel something besides your hand. Your fingertips graze the surface: it’s hard and smooth. Did a part fall off Mettaton? You’re unable to lift your head to observe it, but as you wriggle your hand through the restraint, you can clasp your fingers around it.

Despite the sweat still rolling off the curves of your body, your blood runs cold as you take in the shape of the leftover object.

A knife.

 It’s not yours though.

But it’s also not a toy.

Alphys is still occupied with Mettaton, as you judge by the sounds. He left it. He left it deliberately. You hold your breath as you grip it properly. The edge is now nicking at the brace holding your wrist down. As it snaps open silently, your now free hand motions to do the same with the other. You look towards Alphys, whose back is turned to you while she’s hands deep into Mettaton’s chest.

You proceed to undo the rest of the restraints with as little noise as possible, and a surge of power runs through you. As you hold the knife blade down and your bare feet dangle above the floor, a certainty creeps into your thoughts. Looking at Alphys’ unsuspecting form, determination fills you.

You push the knife forward as you leap towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so tired when posting this, I hope everything is well in place! Didn't even proofread the text, I hope there aren't mistakes littering it at every turn. Thank you for reading anyway :)!


	6. A Mad, Mad, Mad Tea-Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS DONE.  
> I want to apologize for the delay; I'm sorry this chapter took so long to complete. I have no other excuse than pure laziness. And also maybe my face was stuck to my 3DS screen playing FE: Birthright (FLIRT WITH ALL THE UNITS!!!!).
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer the the previous ones, plus you have not one, but TWO smutty goodies in there! What a deal! I hope this makes it up to you!
> 
> Warning: female on female action at the end of the chapter, so sorry if you prefer dicks. It's also my first homosexual sex scene, so I hope it's acceptable (I'm not exactly experienced with the same sex, although I am with my very own, haha). 
> 
> ENJOY :D!

When you come to, you’re sitting in a pile of ashes: discolored and volatile just like Toriel’s. The knife now lies artlessly on the floor, discarded as soon as it filled its purpose. You let the cold of the ceramic tiles seep through you and the dust gather in the wrinkles of your crumpled gown as you think back on what has just transpired.

The nettlesome sensation of Alphys’ armor still spreads and tickles under your fingertips. You can still feel the smoother, thinner silk of her skin over her throat as you pinched it, only to better lacerate it with precise and willful moves, like a competing violinist’s vehement strokes on his lamenting instrument. Alphys’ own cries were short-lived as the thick and warm blood overflowed from her new and gaping orifice, scattering as quickly to the wind as it shriveled into clumps of dust. Her hands clawed desperately at your own as you held her firmly in place, her smaller frame easy to restrain despite its meaty hide and your somewhat sleepy muscles. It was only moments later that you felt her slump lifelessly against you and that you were able to lug her with you to the floor, her scales soon cracking and withering like a sand sculpture drying up. Left behind were only her round glasses and the heap of her clothes.

In all honesty, your actions don’t horrify you as much as when you committed similar ones on Toriel; maybe because no one else was here to witness them, or because you had no other means of escape. The thought itself that you might be losing parts of your humanity or sensitivity after mingling too long with those monsters scares you more than anything else. It is too easy to demonize them, too easy to slash and butter them up like an overdone toast. You wonder if the term monster is even correctly applied -but you shake your head as you recall the abuse you’ve endured until now, and your inability to voice any complaint with them.  You rise up to your feet and dust off the trifling particles that still cling to you tirelessly.  

The room around you is scarcely furnished except for the few carts and trays you could hear shifting earlier. There are a couple of hospital beds in a corner along with the medical chair on which you were bound further away from them. Mettaton is splayed out upright in a sort of metallic station, his chest plate still popped open and wires hanging loosely from it. You feel a bit of pity simmering in your stomach: you wish you could do something to reboot him, but you don’t dare even approach the intricate maze of rubber threads nor the electronic cards or whirring fans, even less putting your hands in there. At least he would be free from Alphys’ experimental mania and constricting character. You thank him silently one last time before looking around for your actual clothes. You find nothing else save for more washed off and faded hospital garbs, shivering with a faint disgust and guilt as you pass the table where the used sex toys lay. Looking at more of the peculiar designs and girth though, you almost feel relieved the experience concluded after only three tests –maybe another demonstration of Mettaton’s clemency.

You return to your original spot. Alphys’ clothes are the only acceptable alternative. You wouldn’t bear running around in the thin and revealing fabric of your current attire. You bend down and pick up the stripped shirt and black skirt. Thankfully there was no hole in any of them for Alphys’ tail. While the hems of the garments are shorter on you –the bottom of the shirt hovering just under your belly and the skirt sagging below your knees- they are a bit baggy. A bit of fondling has them adjusted to your form, the elusive and light fabric like a feather over your skin. The only downside is that you have no underwear to cover your intimate parts, but it’s a small worry in the corner of your mind. You assuredly pick up the real knife and slip it on your hip –you’re sure as hell not letting that one go. Who knows if there aren’t other scientists or assistants further in this lab?

As you prepare to exit the room, you spot a row of sinks in a corner. Feeling dirty and chalky, you make for it in hope of refreshing at least your face and hands. As you turn the tap though, nothing comes out. You twist it for a while without results, until you hear the familiar gurgle of water rising in the pipes. Joining your hands under the tap to welcome the warm water readily, you’re stalled instantly when the liquid that comes out leaks unto your hands like a viscous glue, the cold, sticky and yet intangible broth dripping and pooling over your fingers. You jump back at the revulsive feeling of the white substance licking your palms, thrashing your hands uselessly to remove the syrupy goo. Once you notice black marble-like spots in the thread still connecting your hands to the sink, shimmering like watchful eyes, you redouble your efforts, grinding your palms on the counter of the sink. The heavy treacle finally spills idly to the floor, the puddle expanding like a swelling pancake as stringy veins and pseudopods sprout over its agitated surface.

You’re still backing off slowly, sometimes colliding with trays, when the obviously alive liquid morphs into a ghastly apparition, its contours incessantly transmuting and dissolving before veering back into its original form. The thing is like a cluster of shifting heads, at times perusing you with two pairs of amorphous eyes over skeletal noses, at others simply a mass of shapeless holes and teeth. It stands limply on some sort of ridged tail attached to the floor, the snaking appendage sickeningly resembling a spinal cord. When it starts groveling towards you with snapping sounds like clamping mandibles, you promptly turn heels and run for one of the doors.

You don’t worry at what or who might await you outside: anything to escape this thing released straight from one of Lovecraft’s works. You pass an elevator without a second look, fleeing to a room further ahead, not daring to peek back. You have to run along a somewhat lengthy corridor before ending up in a spacious room filled with more or less ten hospital beds. They are all strangely well-kept and clean, unwrinkled sheets wrapping around them –all except one. The bed nearest to you is undone, sheets pulled back as if in a hurry. You aren’t exactly keen on knowing what got out of this bed or what the individual might have seen to get up in such haste. You proceed more slowly between the rows of bed, noticing with a certain curiosity the empty dog bowl in a corner of the room. The lab seems ominously silent and dark: only the sparse and dull flickering of lonely neon lights cast enough luminosity to repel complete darkness. You make your way in another corridor with appeased urgency, doubting the creature could crawl fast enough to catch up with you.

The next hallway has a set of mirrors aligned on one side, while on the other are gathered numerous golden flowers on a counter. You freeze in your tracks, the sight unsettling you greatly as you recall your lost friend Flowey. However, all those potted plants are only as they seem: flowers. Their five rounded flavescent petals crown a bulging button, all of their heads standing strangely upright despite the lack of solar light. As you walk along the counter, still observing the flowers with a certain melancholy, you spot a small glassy container amidst the amber blossoms bestrewn about. It enthralls you abnormally, beguiling you closer. As your fingers brush the smooth and cold surface of the cylindrical capsule, you take in its content. The translucent jar is simply labeled ‘’S.001’’. Inside is another golden flower. Except this one is in a precarious state: its roots are pulled and crooked, its petals withered and torn like shredded paper.  You feel immense pity at the sight, turning the container in your hand as you examine the center of the flower more attentively. You clasp your free hand over your mouth as you muffle a cry, preventing the rising nausea from traveling any further. He really was dead: that shriveled flower inside the jar is without a doubt Flowey’s corpse. His core, where once his affable features lay, is a mess of lifeless and contorted slits. Of course you had expected his death: you’d made up with the idea that Sans had killed him or in the very least butchered him so he was inches from his end before letting the cold finish the job. The sight of it before you is another thing entirely, though.

You release his vitreous coffin, crouching as you keep a hand on the ledge of the counter to stabilise yourself. You fight the envy to just lie there motionless for an indefinite period of time and you get up, grazing the curve of the container with an apologetic look on your face, before resuming your exploration. You wish you could bring him with you, but the size of it would simply hinder you. Your pace is slow and unsteady, and you have to stop your progress to appease your beating heart. You slouch on the extremity of the counter, the wide mirror in front of you returning the sickly tone of your skin with pallid vigor. You take a while to observe your face, the distinct lines of lack of sleep creasing under your eyes. You smile wryly at your disheveled appearance, pushing back strands on your hair from your face. Your image glares back wearily. You feel tears burning the corners of your eyes, and then rolling down slowly on your cheeks before you swipe them. You miss the second one, the shimmering droplet remaining still on the upper swell of your left cheek. You rub the sleeve of your shirt furiously at it, eager to erase the traces of your weakness. But it doesn’t dry up; it suddenly bulges and bloats considerably, the small tear now a steadily expanding marble –until it finally drops to the floor. You immediately recognise the moving puddle of white liquid surging from the mirror. You abruptly sprint back from where you came, glancing one last time at Flowey’s glass prison.

You make for the elevator you had passed earlier, ignoring the screens flashing sporadically on the walls. Fearing the other abomination might still lurk nearby, you tap the down button relentlessly, until the familiar hissing of the doors welcomes you inside before enclosing you in the rectangle box. You take a while to examine the options offered to you; out of logic, you push the button for the first floor. As expected, you’re standing in the white lab in which you had drunk the cup of tea. Assuredly, you steer to the entrance door where you departed from Undyne. As you exit the fresh air of the laboratory, you are hit by the suffocating heat –something you hadn’t been missing inside there. Of the three path offered to you, only one seems the favorable option: the way in front of you is a direct backtrack in Undyne’s territory and you’re not sure he’d been as forgiving as before if he saw you parading in Alphys’ clothes. The second one, on your left, is a simple set of stairs leading to a river. While the flowing water certainly is inviting, you’re not sure where it would lead. You make for the path on your right, stopping short of two gigantic armored monsters standing guard dutifully. In a fleeting moment of hope, you swiftly turn around, crossing your fingers the two of them haven’t spotted you or won’t quit their post to come after you.

As you surprisingly –or miraculously?- don’t hear anything coming from the two towering individuals, you peek over your shoulder, examining them more thoroughly. They stand so still and upright that one might think they are statues. There is not a hint of movement or the fan of a breath over the lustrous shell of their armor. You decide to creep closer, eyes wide open and muscles tense and ready to run out of there.

The one on the right wears a rounder helmet, the only difference in the suit of armor the two guards are sporting. The bunny ears darting out of his head protection are severely pointed upwards, stiff like pipe cleaners. The other guard standing beside him has a set of horns and cartilaginous ears like a dragon’s, only accentuating their sculpture-like appearance. As your face draws dangerously closer to bunny, further convinced that the two armored giants posted there are only puppets (who would survive in that heat anyway, with such a getup?), you graze a fingertip over the polished and almost blistering sheen of his mail. As you do so, you are suddenly seized by the wrists, each resting in the vice-like grip of the two not-so-lifeless individuals.

-Ha! Like, we totally got you!

The voice emerges from the bunny monster’s obscure head set.

-Yeah, like, she totally thought we were statues, bro!

A gruff, sly voice rises from the depth of the dragon’s elongated helmet. His bunny ‘’bro’’ peers down at you, and you can almost discern the glint of his eyes surrounded by a furry coat in the gap of his helmet.

-That, like, would be logical if we were, but, like, we ain’t, so, like, it might only be if we would be, bro!

They snicker like to a good joke as you’re completely distraught by the exchange in front of you, unable to even grasp the meaning of their senseless rant.  The fabric of their leather gloves stick uncomfortably to the sensitive skin of your forearms; you’re already starting to sweat where they connect. You struggle a bit, but you only succeed in rekindling their laughter.

-Like, we totally knew you would come, right, dude?

The bunny looks to his reptilian buddy expectantly.

-Yeah, the Great Royal Guard Head, Papyrus, like, already warned us you may be passing here.

To which the rightmost guard replies heartily.

-Yeah, so we were totally on the lookout for a human girl with a white blouse and skirt with leg-

He falls silent as he takes in your attire.

-Oh, bro, this is totally embarrassing…

-Like, we totally got owned too…

-Yeah, like, we thought she was, but she isn’t-

-And only if she were, like, it would be logical.

You can’t believe your ears. You’re still mouth agape in their hold, totally flabbergasted by the one-sided conversation taking place in front of you as they are about to release you simply because your clothes don’t match the given description. You almost want to join in and copycat their laughter prior to their last realisation. The bunny guard voices his worry before you can deliver, though.

-But, dude, we can’t just let her pass.

-Yeah, but, like, as an apology…

-We could totally reduce the toll of passage…

-Yeah, let’s, like, totally do that, bro!

Their gaze shifts to you in unison, their titanic height leering down at you as you spot their dilating pupils in the darkness of their suit. Each of their single free hand shoots for the metallic jockstrap covering their sex. You’re only further dumbfounded as the hands holding you force you effortlessly into a kneeling position. Their hips stand well over your head, their soon released and incredibly generous packages drooping heavily above your face. The smell of sweat and rust fills the air as they discard their piece of equipment.

-So, like, we’ll totally let you touch our cocks to make amends and we’ll totally let you pass.

Their appendage is thankfully much human-like, except for the greenish coloration of the left guard’s and the right guard’s coral gland and bristly white balls. Their members are already stiffening, their girth increasing tenfold as their massive testicles swell up with want. Despite yourself, or maybe because of the remnant traces of the drug Alphys injected into your system, you’re already growing hot at the sight –and not because of the heat. Mouth watering as they palm their smooth incoming hard-on, you don’t even notice when they release you, their second hand cupping their balls to massage them gently. You’re still staring hungrily when the bunny guard urges you closer, his gloved paw taunting your head closer to their twitching manliness. You find your hands full –both literally and figuratively- when you grasp their firm shafts, your hands not even completely encircling their width.

You pump their dicks experimentally, picking up pace when one of their hands bolts to each of your shoulders, griping your flesh roughly. You swear you can almost see steam billowing from their helmet in synchronised rhythm with their grunts. Though a bit ashamed of your actions, you attempt to justify yourself with that fact that you’ll be able to pass thereafter. Moreover, it’s not like they were treating you like that lizard scientist or the skeleton brothers. Nonetheless, as you concentrate on the task at hand, you remain somewhat amused by the fact that all monsters down here seem to be sex-obsessed organisms.

The two guards’ cock are soon glistening with a coat of their leaking precum, the display having you wish you could actually take them both in your mouth at the same time. As if reading your thoughts, the two monsters draw closer, the head of their shaft poking and sliding lewdly against each other as they angle it towards your mouth. You eagerly extend your tongue, proceeding to lap at their tip with craving strokes. It’s not long before the two cocks are soon battling for the wetness and warmth of your mouth though, and you have to suck them intermittently while pumping the other avidly with your hand to appease both of them.

Their groans consistently grow louder, before the two guards articulate their nearing climax between their sighs.

-Ah, like, it’s so freaking good –ugh! I’m, like –ah- totally going to cum!

The reptilian individual reciprocates.

-Bro, like, me too!

As if their words spurred them on, they start thrusting their hips into your hands erratically, each motion creating an obscene and wet sound. Their grunts turn to roars as they both hurriedly plunge the head of their jolting dicks in your mouth, corners of your lips almost splitting from the colossal size of them. Seconds later they spray unending ropes of their sperm on your palate, the sheer amount of it spilling past your lips to the ground as your hands slow down on their shrinking hardness. You manage to swallow with great difficulty, trying to ignore the bitter flavor as you wipe the dripping cum from your chin.

The royal guards slump to the ground beside you, peculiarly not saying a word, something for which you are thankful. You don’t wait for their approval before getting up and walking past them, leaving their heaving frame and the echoes of their grating breaths behind. A gargantuan elevator soars to an incredible height on the path ahead. You enter it without hesitation, pressing the last button: L3. You might as well get as close to the surface as possible.

As the characteristic giddiness settles in your chest when the elevator stops, you walk out, relieved to find a fresher atmosphere on the new floor. The ambience is grim and slightly haunting, but the color palette is easy on the eyes: shades of purple and burgundy varnish the felt floor, obscure violet concealing the walls behind the volatile spider webs and rusted gears. The path is simply a prolonged platform held up by wide and hulking pillars, swooping down in the abyss of a seemingly bottomless void –you hardly perceive the glow of the lava seething below.  

You pass an unoccupied stall: a small table with a dark checkered tablecloth strewn over with care. It seems as though it’s been that way for a while, as you notice threads of spider webs hanging from it. Regardless, the main appeal of the table remains the two pastries left on it. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the food: you are famished. You ignore the fact that the two look suspiciously fresh against the dirty surface as you approach the table with a nearly predatory bounce in your step. There’s a rich, greasy golden croissant and a glossy doughnut layered with icing. The items eclipse anything else in your field of view, like beacons on a moonless night. A quick, anxious glance around and even under the table has you confirm that nobody is nearby. Your hand lifts the doughnut off the table: it’s undeniably freshly baked. Its surface is sticky with sugary coating, the toasted dough molding to your fingers. You have a brief period of lucidity as you think back on what happened last time you trusted food –said last time from which you had just escaped.

The softness of the pastry however is just too tempting, the sweetness wafting to your nose like liquid honey, every bite of it surely promising the greatest of epicurean adventure. Your teeth already are tearing in the supple, velvety texture of the confectionery, the flesh of it spreading over your tongue like laces of ambrosial nectar, vanishing like cotton candy before you can actually swallow it. Despite being deprived of this satisfaction, you still feel your stomach contracting in utter pleasure, the energy extracted from the food dispersing in every extremity of your body. The last bite of the doughnut is still in your hand when your other reaches for the croissant, already anticipating its heavenly flavor. Your expectations are not hampered as the thin flaky skin splinters on the roof of your mouth, the fibrous insides spilling in stratified strings of woolly sheets. As you pat your stomach contentedly, you conclude that nirvana is surely closer to earth than anyone might expect it. You’re resuming your way blithely when you spot the small sign bordering the table, the carved words undecipherable under the aged and dirty wood, except for ‘’sale’’. You further excuse yourself from guilt as you once again confirm that this place was forsaken.

You’re greeted farther ahead by a mess of square platforms all held up by the same pillars, all aloft in the pit of blackness sprawling beneath you. As you near the edge of the platform you’re currently standing on, you notice wide air traps painted over with red arrows, apparently pointing the way. You peer fearfully over the ledge that separates you from the hollowness, its sinister depth strangely calling you into the void. Just as you step unto the grate of the large airway, you are suddenly propelled on the platform ahead, causing you to fall on your four limbs out of surprise and terror.  After taking a moment to calm the wayward beating of your heart, you figure you’ll have to make your way unto each platform in the same manner.

After a while of backtracking and repeated scares, you’re finally settled unscathed on the opposite side of your original position. The path ahead opens before you as you pass a set of ominously glowing doors, until you have to creep reluctantly along the length of an obscure corridor. The way is further littered with incredibly drawn-out spider webs, and you have to zigzag as you proceed to avoid stepping in lumps of them. Comes a point where it is inevitable, though: with a repressed shiver, you tread lightly forward, a bed of clustering threads of white silk muddling the way. Still, as you keep advancing, you expect to find a sure footing under the profuse thickness –an assumption soon overturned as you feel your legs sinking in the sea of swaying strings, the disturbingly resistant and fuzzy strands crawling over your exposed skin. You try to hurry before you are further submerged, your haste unfortunately only contributing to your apprehended entanglement. You hysterically try to push back the clinging webs from your arms, hoping you can swim across, but as you tug at them, you feel the threads themselves tugging back at you. Dread boils up in your chest as you imagine just what kind of giant arachnid lies nestled in the darkness.

Your rekindled distress only spurs the jerking motions at the ends of the webs, and soon you are lifted above the expanse of the silken tomb, intertwining strings tightening around your limbs to hold you upright.

-Ahuhuhu…

A chirping laugh rises from the shadows before you. You’re stiff like an insect certain of his death.

-What a catch we have, my dearies…

There’s shifting and stirring in front of you as you promptly struggle against the restraints.

-I heard this human’s a nasty thief, ahuhuhu… Stealing food lovingly made from the spider community…

You perceive the calculated movements of multiple, elongated appendages weaving through the darkness.

-I heard they ate it whole… Just like…

Creaking sounds grow louder.

-A little…

You sense prickly hairs grazing the back of your legs.

-Filthy…

Deft, thorny limbs auscultate the shape of your own.

- ** _P I G._**

Suddenly five gleaming and charcoal eyes are staring at you centimeters from your face, the unshapely ocular organs piercing your own with rapacious mirth.

-Ahuhuhuhu!

The creature gleefully laughs and leaps back with a twirl, seating itself on a webbed swing, crossing its legs in an elegant motion as it stares you down, impish air twisting the corners of its mouth where obsidian fangs rear their sharpened tips. While its form is undeniably arachnidan, it’s also appealingly effeminate: her skin is a shade paler than the ebony of her incisors, a pearly luster shimmering along it as she moves. Her deep, plum-colored hair frames her round face zestfully, a portion of it held back carefully with a subtle satin bow of crimson red. Her arms –six of them- all busy themselves around her petite physique, the pair nearest to her neck clasping around the strings of the improvised perch, the lowest folded neatly on her lap. The centermost pair is holding a tea kettle along with a fancy, white cup. She scans you up and down from her vantage point, gingerly pouring the dark liquid into her teacup. While you wonder when she is going to stop spilling it as the beverage overflows from its ribbed container, you realise in horror that the moving streams of fluid are but Lilliputian spiders frenetically scattering about and running up her arms. She ceaselessly bores her five unblinking eyes as she brings the cup to her garnet painted lips, relishing the terrified expression imprinted on your face.

As two lean and delicate threads snake down beside her, she relinquishes her hold on the objects, straightening up as she travels down the length of the surrounding webs to reach you. Her frilly and formfitting blouse adjust to flatter the meat of her slim hips, her flimsy, whimsical skirt hugging the shape of her thighs as it flies back with her motions, thankfully staying in place due to her suspenders.

-Now, now, why don’t you pay up what you owe us? Maybe I’ll let you go in exchange…Ahuhuhu!

Still slightly mortified from her appearance despite its dignified and nearly human form, you can only mutter an incomplete answer.

-I… I don’t have any money. I ended up here with nothing on me.

Her eyes widen, drawing upward in disbelief and she tugs on the webs sticking to you, bringing you closer. You feel the need to justify yourself further.

-I really thought the baked goods had been abandoned there, and I was so hungry! I’m so sorry, but they were so good too! I couldn’t stop myself once I took the first bite…

She halts her tugging when you are standing one in front of the other.

-Oh? Did you hear that, my sweeties? It seems the human thinks she can soften us with compliments, ahuhuhu!

She brings the back of one her hand to her mouth, laughing merrily. However, she falls silent seconds later, her traits stretching and suddenly turning sour as her voice is no longer oscillating in lively tones, but rather husky and severe.

-Still, that is a problem. If you can’t pay us with actual money…

A hand shoots to your left cheek, short and hirsute hairs stinging your skin as her fingers outline the curve of your face and neck.

-We might as well take a direct payment.

Abruptly, the strings of webs spreading your limbs violently tighten around them, pulling your arms upward and legs downward. Your clothes ride up your stomach and thighs, dangerously revealing the crooks of your more intimate parts. Her multiple arms trace and graze the surface of your body, taking in its form and softness.

-Hmm… There surely would be enough meat to supply several batches of pastries… It might even boost our sales if we were to factor in and monetise on the … ‘’Exotic’’ taste. It would be a nice break for our silk threaders.

You gag a bit at the last part, thinking back on the softness of the sweets and how it might have been due to those silk workers she’s referring to –undoubtedly her spider friends.

-Then again… it would be a waste to use it all up immediately. Huh-huh… My poor pet hasn’t had a companion to keep him company for a while too…

She peers down at the obscure pit beneath you thoughtfully, a dull roaring rising from the depths as if in answer. You start shaking at the thought of what might actually be dwelling down there.

-On the other hand… it’s been a while since I’ve had a playmate myself, ahuhuhu!

At her words, a slim network of downy filaments starts pulling at your apparel.

-Hmm, yes! It’s been decided! I’ll have my fun with you for a while! We’ll see how your debt holds up after this, huhu!

Your outfit is now hanging aside along with the once concealed knife. The threads encircling you are suddenly unleashed and you are spinning vertiginously like a yarn ball towards the gaping emptiness below. You’re sick from the motions and the fear consuming your insides and when you feel the burn of acid in your throat you’re finally making contact with something. You find yourself bouncing lightly up and down, caught by an unbelievably resistant and thick-weaved and multi-layered spider web. The spider lady hangs head down over you as she descends atrociously slow, enjoying the concern in your eyes. She catches herself nimbly with the help from of her long, graceful arms. You attempt to move back a bit on your elbow, your course hindered by the inextricable strands. She approaches you without difficulty, her silhouette looming at your feet.

-Ahuhuhu… Don’t worry my dear; I know how to take care of a woman… I am one as well, after all, ahuhu!

Ignoring your vain endeavors at fleeing, she proceeds to undress nonchalantly while humming lowly. Her clothes are soon reuniting with your own as she stands confidently bare naked before your own exposed body. Though you’re not especially experienced with women, you can’t deny the beauty of her subtle curves: her frame seems so fragile and yet you know she could overpower you at any moment. Her dark skin is smooth and firm, hairless for the exception of the stunted hairs on the extremities of her limbs. The relief that washes over you as you embarrassingly glance towards the area of her inner thigh is immense: the swell of her lips looks thankfully enough like your own – a much needed comfort in your current situation.

Her body is soon leaning over you, her arms and legs spread around you. Her hand shoots up to your jaw, thumbing one side while the other repeats circles on your lower cheek.

-Such a soft, fleshy layer.

The rest of her unused hands worms around to explore every inch and fold of your skin. The sensation of being fondled and having your body explored hungrily by three pairs of hands makes you shiver with want and a pinch of pride. Fingers enter your mouth, playing with your tongue gently, hands cup the underside of your breasts and press them together, another pair pets sensually the bones of your hip and glides to junction of your pubis before it reels back teasingly.

You're already soaking wet; her skillful ministrations add to the wetness caused earlier from your little venture with the guards. When you press your head back on the net beneath you, the arachnid lady takes the opportunity to latch her mouth on your pulsing jugular, her fangs poking it a little too harshly for your tastes. The swiping of her tongue to your collarbone nonetheless has you wriggle pleasurably under her and she takes it as a hint to resume her path downward, one of your hardening buds slipping in her mouth as she tongues it lasciviously and sucks roughly at your breast while massaging the other. Fingers then brush your drenched folds, sliding up and down in between your lips as she sighs satisfyingly from your excited state. All sensations cease suddenly and you can't repress the whine of disappointment that leaves your mouth.

-Ahuhuhu! Don't forget who's paying here... You're not the only one who has to be pleasured...

With that her head swaps places with her pelvis, knees just above your shoulders as her pussy hovers closer to your distressed face. Her own is now buried between your thighs as she folds them upward with the sheer strength of two of her pairs of arms. The third one is busying itself spreading your moist inner lips, exposing the lewd view of your insides. As she laps down the length of your entrance, you cry out in pleasure, your breath fanning along her cunt, causing her to shiver in enjoyment. Her slit is already moistening up as she lowers it just millimetres from your mouth. You catch the abnormally sweet scent of her juices before you're suffocating in the creases of her sex. Your surprised cries are muffled between her lips as she grinds down in your face, arching her back with a high pitched moan. She hastily resumes her assault on your mound though, first suckling on your clit then thrusting too rough fingers in the depth of your warmth. You see yourself forced to open your mouth to gasp for air, the spider woman's sticky wetness trickling down your throat.

Before you can even realize what you're doing, you're plunging and retracting your tongue from her entrance as she pumps her hips up and down in time with your motions. Her juices taste exactly like the dough of the pastries you ate: the flavor has you seeking for more, lapping avidly at her walls as her lips are cushioned on your face, smearing her nectar. The darkness around you fills with both of your sighs and moans and soon your tongues are exploring the deepest parts of each other while your fingers rub each other's clit. Just as your climax rears its peak, the monster's mouth disconnects from your pussy, her cunt also removing itself from your field of view.

An instant later she's kneeling between your shaking legs, a sly smirk tugging at her glistening lips. 

-Ahuhu. Don't you know? In baking and intercourse alike, the best dish is served last...

She steps over one of your legs so it nestled between her own and turns you so you're lying on your side. As you bounce uncontrollably, you fist your hands in the webs to stabilise yourself. Her sex is dangerously approaching yours -she obviously aims to scissor you. While your cunt pulses and aches with desire, you still don't expect the indescribable bliss that strikes you as your sexes meet with hungry eagerness, the both of them so drenched that your lips slip oh-so-wonderfully as they grind together. Hips jolting and jerking as your frames move with sole purpose of deepening your pleasure, your lover presses you closer, the back of your thigh tapped to her modest chest and over her shoulder. Her remaining limbs cling desperately to your hips and sides, her fingers leaving paler imprints on your skin.

Shocks of ecstasy bolt to your core as your clits graze and brush against each other, drowning in the overflowing evidence of your obscene activities. The pleasure finally culminates in an earth-shattering orgasm as you both tense against each other, hips still gyrating slowly to ride out your climax.

Her bum sits on the inner swell of your thigh as she calms the heaving of her chest. You relish the moment of peace to close your eyes for a couple seconds, the much needed rest already soothing you.

Your skin tingles as the spider lady stands to clean and dress herself.

-Well...

She ties the bow of her necktie.

-This certainly was invigorating. I feel so refreshed, I'm inclined to let you free..

She bends down to meet your now kneeling form, placing a soft but somehow mocking kiss on your forehead.

-... Although, do consider this as a temporary lease... If we were to meet again, I'd have the obligation to demand interest, ahuhuhu!

Her signature laugh resounds gleefully as your clothes drop over your head and the webbed platform you're seated on rises to drop you off on the other side of the deadly silk path. Only the echoes of her self-satisfied chuckling remain of her person in the impending darkness. You dress hastily, eager to resume your seemingly unending journey.

You pass the arch with one last shiver, relieved you got out with so little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, leaving kudos or comments! 
> 
> See y'all next chapter :)!


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Please don't get your hopes up; this is only a short chapter! Just a little tease to show you that I'm still alive and kicking. I've been having difficulty channeling my writing mojo lately.
> 
> So the big meeting with Asgore will unfortunately wait until the next chapter, which most likely will be the last.
> 
> Until then, enjoy this smutty chapter!
> 
> Warning: somewhat non-con/rape elements.

There’s little walking before you reach an immense building. As much as its height is impressive though, it looks depressingly abandoned. You perceive the outlines of shattered neon lights, the washed off façade of the construction witness to the desolation of its state. One of the letters from the electronic sign hangs reversed, teetering dangerously as it threatens to crash to the ground. ‘’MTT’’ is what it used to read. You pass cautiously under the rocking ‘’T’’, its swaying form like an overturned cross awaiting its impending fall. You drag your feet on the blackened carpet, peering carefully through the glass doors. You succeed in finding a spot devoid of any dirt or traces of whatever dried liquid that was spilled or sprayed on it, observing the interior area. When you confirm that the same emptiness and devastation also defiles the surrounding, you pull the door, nonetheless avoiding the slightest of noise as you close it behind you. The ceramic tiles are suffocating under dust, spiders and small vermin crawl about the place. It undoubtedly looks like the remnants of a festive hotel: a deserted reception desk, the sign for a junk food restaurant, the halls filled with closed doors probably leading to vacant rooms. At the center of it all, a crumbled fountain presides in the entrance hall. It seems it was left as such while being built: disparate shingles lay amongst the rubble, suggesting an older model was being brought down to leave place for the new.

You pass it without a second glance, aiming for the door past it, figuring it would lead farther into the cave and closer to the surface. After all, you had seen the looming and spiraling towers of a castle shooting to the sky menacingly –you still remember Toriel’s and Alphys’ words with a shiver, a blank, shapeless but intimidating silhouette engraving itself in your mind as you mouth the name ‘’Asgore’’ fearfully. Confrontation would probably be inevitable if you wanted to make your way back home. Melancholy seeps languidly in your chest: do you even want to go back home? You’d find the same routine you loathed. The same familiar gauging faces. Sure, your disappearance might have stirred worry around you –temporary attention that would quell as soon as it sprung to life. You snort a bit at the irony of your situation, trying desperately to escape alive the hellish hole you had deemed your end. Still, you admit you don’t really fancy the idea of murderous monsters roaming the upper world. You figure their wild and violent habits would not necessarily dissipate once on the surface: the humans’ own inclinations might only contribute to strengthen them. Moreover, you couldn’t deny that you feared for the safety of your old friends and remaining family members, despite the fermenting awkwardness between yourselves.

You pass another set of glass doors crowned by an ominous dark sign spelling ‘’CORE’’. The building that stands on the other side is even more impressive than the one you just exited. The navy walls of the architecture vanish in the surrounding darkness, thin tunneling cracks glowing bloody red. Here and there circular lights dim out before shinning ever more brilliantly, like the blazing tip of a burning cigar. The wooden bridge you have to cross is slowly taken over by a bleak azure tint. The decor that welcomes you inside is the same wintry hue. Peculiar designs spread about the floor and walls, the surface strangely reminding you of electronic charts. You don’t particularly feel like delving deeper into the sinister facility, so you steer towards the elevator in front of you. Once you’re out, you have to pass a pitch-black room before reaching another elevator at the end of a corridor. The sight that greets you is dull and drab: everything, to the walls, path and the subsiding outline of the buildings on the horizon line is suffocating under shades of ashen gray. You opt to continue your path by taking the elevators you meet along it instead of walking miles for who knows how long on those veering roads.

As you exit the lift, you cannot help but feel as though you’ve nearly reached the end of your journey. The area that opens before you brims with light: golden tiles pave the way ahead between rows of gargantuan pillars of similar gilded shade. Large etched windows spew forth streams of blinding light, ethereal specks of dust waltzing leisurely in the stagnant air. You make your way forward, somewhat appeased with the overflowing light. You’ve nearly reached the end of the corridor when you freeze in your tracks.

-Ya thought I’d let ya go this easily? Hehe, ain’t that no way of saying goodbye, sugar.

You swiftly turn around, ready to run or to pounce. Your hand rests against your hip where the knife lies hidden.  Sans is slumping nonchalantly on a pillar, hands deep in his pocket, neck disappearing in the thick fur of his jacket. You should have figured you would see him again. He looks over at you, eyeing you hungrily up and down, his ever mocking grin wide with sadistic delight.

-Woah, don’t look so furious now, honey…

He shrugs his shoulders, raising his open palms to the sky as if in surrender.

-I ain’t here to bring you back. Paps won’t let me: he wants you to head for the King, that authority boot-licker. Eh… Although…

He vanishes into thin air, leaving only a shadowy imprint in his stead, and suddenly you’re backing into him and he snatches your wrists to secure you in place. You struggle desperately as the words he murmurs into your ear makes you shiver with the thought of old memories.

-That don’t mean I can’t have my fun.

Black fills your vision and a hard, cold surface presses to your cheek as a bony hand tangles firmly in your hair to hold you in place. The dizziness takes a while to dissipate, but soon you realize you’re being held to the floor, hands vainly trying to push yourself up as Sans dominates you, his hips pushing roughly against your bum raised high up.

-Don’t that bring back memories, eh sweetheart?

To emphasize his point, he thrust softly into you, the beginning of a bulge rubbing on your swollen lips through the thin fabric of your borrowed skirt. The said skirt is quickly pushed up your hips to expose your bare bottom –your face heats up remembering your lack of underwear. Sans whistles appreciatively behind you as he backs off to get a better look.

-You been ready for me, babe?

His hands grab your buttocks, molding them exceedingly as you try to kick away from him. The effort is to no avail though, as the hand in your hair was replaced by familiar bindings of magic on your hands.

-Bah, it’s not like I have no idea o’what ya’ve been up to; monsters rarely have a chance to get some action down here, if ya know what I mean…

His bony thumbs spread your lips, and one of his fingers prods your entrance almost gently, scooping up your juices to coat your sex generously. You mutter intelligibly between gritted teeth.

-Huh? What was that, Doll face?

His ministrations stop, but his fingers spread your lips further, nearly painfully.

-Just get it the fuck over with!

Sans is abruptly very still behind you. You shudder a bit as the air turns cold and a dry cackle resounds in your ears.

-With pleasure, sweatheart.

You don’t even hear him undo his shorts before he plunges mercilessly into you, your juices doing little to appease the burning pain searing your walls. His girth stretches them as if it were your first time; a breathless scream chokes in your throat as you attempt to mute your discomfort. Before you can brace yourself for more, Sans is already fucking you with a grueling pace, his brutal thrusts pushing you harder unto the floor, his replaced hand in your hair tugging at it ferociously as you breasts –thankfully still covered by the shirt- graze uncomfortably upon the tiled floor.

-Eh, ya asked for it, babe.

An unbearable ache scorches your scalp and white spots muzzle your vision as he pulls you by the hair to your knees, while keeping up his inhuman rhythm. The position is painfully awkward: except for his hand tangled in your hair, only his second one holds you in place by gripping your breast tightly. Every time he aims up to bury his dick into your womanhood, his pelvic bone meets your bum and produces an obscene sounds that echoes through the silent hallway over his grunts. You try to keep your arms close to your body while maintaining balance, but the task reveals difficult. You can only grip the fabric of Sans’ coat as his hands move to your hips to drag you further unto his cock.

Just as your knees are about to give out from the pain of the hard floor scraping against them, the familiar emptiness engulfs you and any weight on your legs is alleviated and replaced by a marble surface on your back. Sans is fucking you against a pillar, your legs raised to his shoulders as he plunges inside you balls deep, each of his ceaseless pump drawing a strenuous whine from your lungs.

-Ugh, yer still so fuckin’ tight, doll face. Shame we gotta say goodbye.

With one swift move, he lifts you higher to adjust himself as to sheathe his length further into your cunt, if even possible. His callous hands grasp your bum firmly, his sharp fingers indenting and nipping the flesh.

-Let’s make this worthwhile.

His girth is promptly expanding inside you at his words, his cock heating up as it pulses wildly against your clenching walls. You can only grit your teeth and shut your eyes tightly as you attempt to muffle the noises forcibly escaping your mouth with every of his movement. A familiar scent overwhelms your nose as a faint tingle travels up your insides. Soon you find yourself leaning back against the pillar, your hips pushing down further unto Sans’ generous length, moaning lewdly despite the screams of your conscience vainly seeking to drag you back to your senses. Sans chuckles darkly under his breath.

Once again your position changes as you’re pressed chest first unto the same pillar, the flesh of your hips searing with pain as the articulations of his phalanges bite at it, every article of clothing discarded to the wind. Regardless of Sans’ relentless abuse, you can feel yourself grow closer to that blissful edge; if Sans’ renewed vigor and groans are anything to go by, he is as well. Just as you think you may be able to resist the tempting call of release, one of his hands reaches for your clit and rubs it frantically, coercing you urgently into a strong, sudden and somewhat unsatisfying orgasm. Sans’ release hits him harder, the tip of his ghostly dick spurting laces of prickling cum over your bare back and bottom. You tumble to the floor, hands still gripping the ridges of the pillar for some support. You don’t dare turn back when you hear Sans putting his own clothes back on.

-Well, this was fun, sugar lips.

You peer back fiercely over your shoulder at the irksome name. Sans is staring down at you, a weirdly apologetic frown curving his bony brow as his smile yet remains cheerfully sadistic.  He huffs and turns on his heels, laughing softly as he leaves without a second look.

-Be sure to put in a good word fer me on the other side, will ya?

And with that he vanishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading this and being patient :)!


	8. The King's Breeding Ground And Your Life's Evidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY YES I DID IT!!!!
> 
> I must apologize for the time it took me to get back to writing this: I just wasn't feeling it at all, even though I tried hard to write it. Nonetheless, here it is: the final chapter! I've tried my best with it, so I hope it won't disappoint you. I'd like to remind you that I only started to write this as an excuse to create Undertale (rather Underfell) smut with most of its charming characters, so please don't expect too much from the plot's unraveling -you risk finding it cliché enough. 
> 
> The important thing is: ASGORE SMUT! YEAH!
> 
> And even more importantly: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read, leave kudos or comment on this! You made my world just a little brighter! I hope you will find the final act as rewarding as this work was for me.
> 
> WARNINGS: hints of non-con, gory depictions of violence, heavy mention and description of self-harm, proceed with caution if you are sensitive to any of these.

You’ve now forgotten how many times you’ve had to put your clothes back on after being forced naked so often. The action becomes a reflex; under a dozen seconds, you’re completely clothed –not like you have that many clothing articles anyway.

You look suspiciously around you, prepared to see Sans reappear at any given moment: but only the quiet stillness of the hallway presses around you. You gulp down anxiously, the final arch of the luminous corridor looming menacingly over your head. The hallway past it is as drab and dull as the earlier scenery before the illuminated hall. The stone walls enclosing you and forcing you straight ahead ooze with cool air, though the atmosphere remains stagnant. One turn to the right and you notice a carpet of leaden flowers pooling from the threshold of a gaping gateway. Rays of dim light burrow through the darkness seeping forth, barely reaching the peppery, smoky surface of the floor.  Apprehension bubbles in the pit of your stomach.  

You take a step forward, the flowers shuffling around your feet as dust soars and settles restlessly. You cannot say what lies ahead of you as you traverse the veil of shrouded darkness befalling the doorway. Only moments later light floods your vision as you raise your hand to shield your eyes while they adjust to the new source of light.

You hold your breath as you take in the surroundings spreading before you. More wilted and discolored flowers bend their lifeless corpse along the floor, gathering like bowing believers towards the center of the room. There, sitting limply on a massive throne like one of those sculptures of olden gods, seats an even more impressive figure: doubtlessly that of the king's. The golden crown indicating so droops crookedly over his forehead, shadowing his upper face. Daunting, ridged horns protrude from the sharp edges of the object, standing fiercely like two coiling vipers readying their attack. The burling mass of his body is mostly covered by a rich crimson cape, the imposing girth of one of his pale arm the only limb glinting in the light as his large paw settles boringly against one of his bearded cheeks.

The deafening silence is finally broken when the king's form shifts into an upright, prideful position, the width of his shoulders sheltering you almost completely from the light rushing behind him. It's only then that you remember to breathe, the shuddering motion of the action recalling that of a shaking lamb cornered by hungry wolves. 

-You've come.

His voice is like the muffled rumbling of a volcano arising from slumber: it echoes softly but strongly in the room. His second paw breaches the cloak covering him, his fingers gripping the armrests lazily as red crescents of light glint mischievously in the creases of his darkened orbits.

-I must say, I didn't expect you to make it here... Not in one piece anyway. It's not as if I'm completely unaware of the... Insubordination of my subjects.

The amber hairs on his jaw stretch around his mouth to allow a mocking smile where jagged teeth peek daringly.

-Well, that only means I'll be allowed to have my fun with you before taking your soul.

Suddenly all light is blocked from your view. The goat man's silhouette towers imposingly in front of you, his head standing well over yours despite the several feet separating the both of you. As he takes his first steps, the floor shakes ever so slightly, the withered flowers shivering as if caught in an intermittent but endless gust of wind. You find yourself anchored to the floor, your thoughts racing in your mind as the king grows nearer, his eyes -much like Toriel's- never releasing your form as their irises flicker like wild embers.

In that moment of instant panic, you find yourself thinking your fate might have been more merciful if you had remained with the bony bros- a thought soon forgotten when the goat monster stands only inches from you. Your head barely reaches to the upper half of his midriff. The heavy cloth tied around his neck is now thrown back on his shoulders, revealing the immensity of his sculpted body -one he certainly isn't ashamed of as you notice with embarrassment his lack of any and all clothes. You fix his toned chest with unwavering attention, too afraid of his unmoving eyes on you and not daring to peek down again -a reaction he chuckles heartily to.

You want nothing else but to bolt out of here: adrenaline floods through you, blood pumping into your limbs and swelling your muscles. But you're still glued in place, ignoring whether it is your fear preventing you from acting on your instinct or a magic monster trick performed by the king.

You flinch as the said individual raises a paw to your face, cupping your chin between two callous fingers as he proceeds to lift it effortlessly. Once again you are unable to breathe as your eyes meet his fervent gaze, awaiting the moment where his grip would surely crush your jaw mercilessly. However the pain never comes. The great king Asgore only turns your head side to side, examining you thoroughly.

-Hmm... It's a shame I have to take the soul of a human so pleasing on the eyes. I'm actually impressed my wife -ex-wife- let you go...

He bends down a bit so his face hovers just over yours, his warm breath fanning on your face with his every words as his traits remain in the darkness.

-I bet you had to be really naughty.

He releases you immediately after, the sudden freedom giving you the impression of falling to the floor. The relief is short-lived as his hand wraps easily around your forearm, yanking you towards his throne.

-I heard of a certain human tradition regarding bad-behaving children... Something about punishment?

Soon he is seating back in his royal chair, his hold on you not faltering.

With one swift movement he yanks you towards him and lays you over the firm muscles of his thighs, belly touching dangerously against the slight mass of fur covering his naked member. You huff hoarsely as all air escapes your lungs as he presses you harder against him, preventing you from struggling too much. You can barely utter a protest when you feel his hands tugging at your clothes, ripping the material easily. Your back and bottom are now fully exposed to him, the showering light atop you hiding nothing to his watchful stare. As his large hands roam the curves of your body with needful attention, the faint rustling of flowers under the weight of the knife once held to your hip gathers his interest, though he makes no move to pick it up.

-Hmm... I can smell the dust from here... All over your clothes too.

You keep your head cradled in your arms, careful to keep the least amount of contact with him.

-Did you have the same plan for me too? Spreading my dust on this already dirt-soaked garden?

One of his hands traces the depression of your spine, and then proceeds to grab a handful of the flesh of one of your asscheeks in his large palm.

-Do you not think it looks enough like a graveyard yet? The flowers aren't the only dead things here...

He smirks at that as you tremble a bit: you expected a cruel tyrant, one of childish and sadistic pleasures, but the fact he would relish in the death of his own kind makes him ever so frightening.

-AH!

You're unfortunately too slow to successfully muffle the pained gasp escaping your mouth, the burning sensation of his hand against your bottom still vibrantly pulsating. Another slap is delivered to your other cheek, and this time you bury your head further into your arms, plastering a hand over your mouth.

-This is what naughty children deserve.

His hand comes down once again with unrelenting force. You feel the vibration of the impact reverbating in your whole body, surprised your bones don't break under the sheer amount of force conveyed. As you clench your eyes and immobilize your body to receive the next slap, his hand instead fondles gently with your butt, massaging it in circular, sensual motions. His figure bends so his face approaches your own, his other hand twisting in your hair so he can steer your neck backwards, his mouth whispering close to your ear.

-Know that I will show you no mercy.

With that a single of his fingers enters you with brutality, the lenght and width of it already larger than a human's. You arch your back to attempt to get farther away, but you only succeed in grinding your torso and hips against him, feeling his impressive yet limp girth under the swell of your belly. Asgore explores your depth with the tip of his finger, pressing here and there until he finds the spot that makes you writhe over his lap: you're then assaulted repeatedly as he pumps his finger in and out of your hole, curving it over your sensitive spot everytime he reaches in. It's not long before you're a crying mess from the mix of pain and undeniable pleasure.

Under the remnants of your clothes, you feel with creeping unease the slow but certain swelling of the monster's enormous cock. With somewhat of a relief, the king lifts your hips higher so he can delve deeper into your moistening core. His thighs are wide enough that your chest holds most of your weight on one while your knees rest on the other. One more finger joins the other as he continues to abuse your now sopping-wet womanhood. You hear him growl lightly as he spreads your inner lips to allow a wider range of penetrating angles. It gets to the point where three of his fingers are savagely drilling into you, twisting as they pump in and out.

-Still, I wouldn't want to wear my toy off right away...

Seconds later your head is hanging down between his legs and your hands shoot to his knees to stop yourself from falling head first unto the floor, though the hold Asgore keeps on you would actualy prevent it. His hands guide your legs over his broad shoulders, bringing your crotch so close to his face that you can feel the hairs of his beard prickling the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your arms shake uncontrollably as you attempt to keep your balance, but you fail miserably once the King's tongue laps at your cunt hungrily, licking up and down your folds with unwavering fervor, his fingernails digging deep into the skin of your thighs.

You let your head fall unto the man's lap, your arms swaying and hanging into the air defeatedly.

By God did this feel good; his tongue went up and down, warm and slick and thick, the tiny bumps covering it making you shiver each time they met with your skin.

Having coated the entirety of your lips with his saliva, his tongue then digs into you deeply, his eyes boring into your own with palpable lust as he keeps assaulting you. You feel the strong and malleable muscle melding with your walls, stretching them further, twisting and seeking that same pleasurable spot.

His ministrations build up pressure in your lower abdomen, but the sultry look on his hirsute face amplifies it tenfold. When his tongue fucks you relentlessly, plunging so far in that his sharpened teeth nib at your folds and clit, you think you'll come, right here and there, on the lap of the king of monsters. However, you have to reluctantly unclench your eyes as all movements stop just as you were about to come. The King's chin and beard are sticky with your juices, his abnormally long tongue wiping them away.

-Don't forget this isn't for your own fun; if I were to give you all of this pleasure now, your end would only be ever so painful.

You feel like a puppet in his hands: he turns you around as if you weighed nothing, removing the clinging pieces of torn clothes and placing you in a disturbingly familiar position -just like a child on Santa’s lap. Except this time you're completely naked and a huge, pulsating cock is settled between your legs, the hardened tip poking at your belly. You feel its soft thrumming, like a heartbeat, heating up the soaked mess of your sex. It's currently so sensitive that each vibration almost makes you come, and you can't help but shift your hips closer, tightening your thighs around it as you slowly rub against it. Asgore still holds your waist though, and your motions are just restrained enough to keep you away from sweet deliverance.

Your head leans dully against his hairy and firm chest, moving in tandem with each of his breaths. All hope of attempting the impossible has long vanished: you're nothing compared to this monster. Desperation gnaws at your conscience. You wish for nothing more than to sink deeper in those blissful feelings before finally embracing the last release. Wanton whines stream from your mouth as you struggle to keep your hips steady. Asgore finally gives you respite, gripping your buttocks as he starts moving you up and down against his sweltering hardness. Your oversensitive lips slide easily along his length, drenching it in your overflowing juices.

When the tip of his cock finally comes in contact with your clit, you arch your back and throw your head in uncontrollable pleasure, sparks of white blinding your vision as your orgasm hits you hard. Asgore is far from relenting though- if anything, your deafening cry of bliss spurs him on and soon he's fucking your outer lips almost violently. You moan in protest from your sensitivity, hoping his end will near. As you notice the long, thick pulsing veins on his twitching shaft, you know your wish will soon be granted; seconds later he's shooting his warm sticky sperm shamelessly over your body, the translucent stuff coating your chest and face generously while he rides out his orgasm with loud grunts. His seed starts to drip your body, drying unpleasantly as you hurry to wipe the most of it off your face.

However, with inching distress you notice the king’s cock is still standing proudly between your legs, glistening with the mixture of your juices. He chuckles behind you as he hears your whines of apprehension.

-Remember: I'll not let you off easily.

Using the impressive strength of his muscled body, he lifts you easily off his lap, bringing your dripping entrance just over the bulking swell of his gland. Your body tenses in fear. This'll never fit in without breaking you. His hands lower you further. Your inner lips part just slightly over the head of his penis. You clench your jaw, anticipating the pain. The reddened tip of his dick breaches your womanhood. Although it's barely the first inches, your inner walls are already stretching painfully despite all the preparation you've been through.

-Ple-please..! Anything but that! It hurts too much!

The head makes it past your entrance. It burns and stings, your muscles constrict around his cock, molding its shape so thoroughly that you can feel all of its ridges and bumps.

-Hehe... Mercy was never an option ever since you fell here.

His dick is continuing its path further into your cunt, drawing airy noises of complaint from your throat. It threatens to split you in half. His member is scarcely halfway in, and already you feel stuffed. You think you can make out the slight outlines of a bulge around your pelvic area, but the sight makes you nauseous, so you attempt to look anywhere else- something arduous when the cock penetrating you is larger than your arm. When Asgore finally withdraws from your pussy, it seems as if your insides are being vacuumed, although the relief that fills you is immense, albeit temporary.

Already his cock is burrowing itself deeper inside you with rekindled strength, sinking and settling itself in your nethermost parts. As your own weight shoves you down further on Asgore's member dangerously, you flail your arms about, trying to support yourself on whatever you can find.  Your palms thus meet with the rough surface of his horns, encircling the firm appendages to secure yourself. Your reaction yet again makes him chuckle as it allows him more leverage: he holds your thighs apart with his muscular forearms, snapping his hips upwards to meet your own. The force of his action and his generous cock propel you up and push you against his broad chest. His head settles in the junction of your neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping at the skin there like a red hot element. The feel of his fangs grazing repeatedly at your jugular covers you with goosebumps despite your clammy and sweaty skin.

One of the King's hands leaves your thigh as the other stretches to hold both of your legs in a firm grip, all the while fucking you at a punishing pace. His free hand maps the outlines of your hip, his fingers lazying around the areola of your nipple before pinching it severely hard. He takes advantage of the moment you open your mouth to scream to scoop up semi-dry remnants of his cum on your chest and wedges two fingers in your mouth. You hastily clamp your teeth down in reflex, but his goal is already achieved: he's spreading his juices over your tongue, forcing you to taste him -a salty and bitter flavor with an aftertaste of shame.

-Tsk. Wasting so much of it. Be a good girl and wash it all up, won't you?

Already your tongue is swirling around his dirtied digits, swallowing up everything as he orders it in hope it might assuage his envies. He seems pleased, something that might not be as fortunate as you originally thought.

-Such a good girl... All grown up aren't you? Then I won't need to tell you what good, well-behaved and grown up girls have to do right?

You shake your head while mumbling unintelligible words around his fingers, praying it's the answer he's seeking. But his question is of rhetorical nature: his fingers leave your mouth, settling back on your thigh as he sprawls them even further and slides slightly under you to allow him a deeper access to your cunt.

His mouth his suddenly unbearably close to your ear and, when he finally speaks, it's an infinitely drawn-out answer, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust of his cock into your drenched hole.

-They take the King's cock fully.

His pounding resumes ever so forcefully, his tight, massive balls slapping every time against your bum as you moan without end.

-Yeah, that's it, just like that... Take it in, take it all in; let me hear you scream as I fuck your cunt.

Your arms are now girdled behind his neck, holding on to dear life as the expanse of your pain fades with every jab of the head of his dick against your womb. The dirty words he growls in your ear make you flare up like a bitch in heat, wetting his length with your arousal.

-I'll bet no monster here has taken you quite like that... I'm in a good mood now, if you tell me how much you like it, maybe I'll relent a bit...

You stutter, red tinting your cheeks despite your past littered with actions of more obscene nature.

-I- I, please! It's so good! Take me just like that-

He rams harder into you, if even possible.

-Tut. That's not how we address royalty. What exactly do you need from me?

His shaft is now fucking you agonizingly slow, sliding in and out of you just to tease that spot that makes you crazy. The pressure inching against your walls has shifted from painful to bearable and now strangely desirable.

-Ah, I-umh-Ah, fuck! Please, my King, fuck me! Fuck my pussy with your cock! Fuck me hard and fast, please!

As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, your positions are swapped: you're now kneeling on the oversized throne, head locked in place by one of Asgore's palms, hips and bottom raised in the air so it locks just delightfully with his own oversized sex. In spite of his earlier hints, he’s not going any easier on you. When he resumes his rutting in your womanhood, it's only more passionately, his herculean stature serving to dig his member down in your cunt. While thankfully the seat is cushioned, your knees burn and ache disturbingly on the fabric every time he roots himself into you.

-You do learn fast... That would explain why you survived this far.

His hands palm your buttocks, parting your flesh to reveal your second most intimate part. His fingers drag your juices upwards, thumb entering your sphincter and stretching it absentmindedly as he keeps plowing you.

The appendage is only slightly caressing your insides, pressing against his moving cock through your wrinkled flesh that you're coming for a second time, milking his shaft so hard that he almost reciprocates - but not yet.

The soft pliable surface that tickles the skin of your upper back then indicates that you've once again been shifted. In the haze of your receding orgasm, you barely register the bed of flowers breaking under your weight, the dust sweeping and fleeting like disturbed schools of fish. Asgore is now bending over you, your eyes frighteningly close from meeting as he takes you missionary. You barely felt his sex leave the warmth of your own. Only puffs of air welcome the unyielding king's thrusts: his mass crushes you as he drives into you, your flooding cunt swallowing him whole and wetting the soft but prickly curves of his balls every time he rams into your womanhood.  You grip frantically at the stem of flowers in arm’s reach, steadying your rocking body.

That’s when you feel a tinge of cold seeping through your fingertips. You attempt to hide your surprise; though you can repress the envy of freezing in place, you cannot hold back the shivers that rake your form. Surely the king misinterprets it as a sign of obvious pleasure: he shoves your legs further into your chest, nails nipping the flesh red. You graze the surface of the object lying short of a couple of feet from you, unbelieving of your luck -but its edge is well tangible as you outline the blade’s waning curve into the hilt with your fingers. You needn’t look to confirm its presence. After all, it is not something you could afford if you hoped for the plan ingraining itself in your mind to bear fruit. There is already little chance it would succeed. You’ll have to wait for the perfect moment, the one where Asgore will be most vulnerable. You pray he reaches his end soon.

For the time being, you cross your fingers he doesn’t catch a glimpse of the object or doesn’t smell the familiar scent of revolving dust, although your currently rolling around in it would probably cover it.  Asgore’s constant and rough pace remains unaltered as he eyes every expression imprinting your face under the bane of unadulterated pleasure shaking the wreck of your body.

But soon his thrusts become shallow, erratic; his shaft swells and expands the velvet of your walls. You decide to play the game. Moaning out loudly, you drag him closer to you, launching your legs around his waist and grappling his horns with your hands. Your gaze finally intersect, surprise slightly detectable behind his charcoal pupils as you encourage him deeper into your blistering core.

-Please, my king, fill me up! Fill me up with your cum until I overflow -Ah, yes!

He grunts and growls, eyes narrowing to smoldering slits of unbridled desire.

-Little girl... You have no idea what you're asking for.

His hands grip your hips, impaling you on his dick. You prepare yourself, hardly resisting the overwhelming barrage of his pumps. You lay your arms back in the grass, subtly reaching for the knife as you mimic a spasm of pleasure. You know that Asgore is close: you just have to push him a little. You contract the muscles of your womanhood, coaxing his shaft. Just then, you feel it: the sudden tension in his muscles, the heavy breathing, the desperate need behind his forceful motions. While he slows down, he also hilts his full length into your cunt harsher, nestling its tip to the delicate plush of your womb as he unleashes his seed into you. It takes an immeasurable amount of willpower for you to clasp the knife as the pressure of his sperm bottles up in your lower abdomen, the fluid teeming and abounding on your inner thighs. Asgore’s eyes are shut tight, reveling in the aftermath of his release –it’s at that particular moment that you strike, precise and deadly.

Your free hand returns to his horn, hoping that somehow it will restrain him. The tip of the knife makes for the tender skin of his throat, where his blood pulses wildly. As fast as the blade carves a path of red on his alabaster fur, his own paw shoots to your neck, choking you with striking fury in his eyes. The gurgles of rage that spurts from his open wound permeates your skin with trickles of warm blood, daubing your skin like a furious painter on his canvas. Froth bubbles at his lips, leaking on your chest where it suffuses in with the sanguine fluid like oily vacuoles on open water.   


The air rarifies in your lungs, the lack of oxygen burning your insides like a match scrapping sandpaper. With a shaking arm and blackening vision you push the knife to his temple, farther down the craggy bark of his antler. There, you slam and torque the knife as hard as you can, screwing and driving the object with the necessary force to pierce his skull. More blood spumes from the new wound and although wheezes are the only sound Asgore succeeds in producing in reaction to the pain, his unfaltering grip lets you know it won’t be enough to slaughter this beast of a giant.  You yourself are lightheaded from suffocation: it’s a wonder you haven’t passed out. Your hold on the knife anchors you to reality. Asgore now limp cock slips out of you as he readjusts to apply more pressure to his grasp, digging his second hand in the flesh of your stomach while his nails etch gashes of grueling agony. Only the clumps of wet dust forming on your abdomen allow to show you that that the crimson pool gathering there is your own.

You tug firmly at the knife bolted to his head, concentrating enough willpower and strength to withdraw it from his bony pedestal. His tall stature proves useful in this moment of woe: the knife finds a new and easy target under the veil of his beard, puncturing the underside of his chin and jutting at his palate. His grip loosens as he recoils from the pain, and you can’t help but cheer internally at the afflicted frown distorting his traits. Exhilaration boils in your wounded abdomen as you decide to add to his misery whilst ignoring your own: one hand still clamped around the hilt of the blade, you stretch your fingers to outline the jagged edges of his face, digits lingering lasciviously on his cheek as a devious expression shadows your face. His wavering lock on your neck permits you to whistle some seething words.

-Do my fingers not smell like dust too? Yours is not the only dirtying them… Not the only of your kind, anyway.

Your palm meets with his intact temple, cupping his face in a mock of a lover’s action, and your thumb plunges fearlessly in the viscous marble of his eye. If your throat didn’t feel so raw, you would laugh gingerly at the ironic familiarity of the situation. Instead you settle for a mad grin that would rival that of Sans’, letting the slimy humors running down your hand. You stay as such, crushed by the monster’s weight, until you notice it finally slumps and dissipates, the grip on your abused neck relinquishing. You lay like that for a while, bathing in the clammy mess of dust and blood, looking up at the streaming light –the subtle promise of freedom tempting you into getting up. You grab the deceased king’s cape, cleaning up and covering yourself. You thumb the sore area of your neck, peering around the room.

As you spot a room behind the throne, you pick up the knife from the pile of ashes at your feet, wincing from the soreness of your whole pelvic area. You move slowly to alleviate it, clutching the fabric of the coat around your naked body.

You proceed in darkness for a while, hand on the wall to steady yourself, before reaching an ominous room: two pillars stand guard at the door, twilight twinkling between their thick silhouettes.

You cross the doorstep while holding your breath; this is it, you think. You can almost feel the fresh wind whipping your face, the smell of the pine trees in the verdant forest. The light radiates evermore at each step you take closer, the contrast with the darkness of the cave burning your squinting eyes. Filled with hope, you think about how your life will change once you escape this hellhole; you’re sure to enjoy it at its best and make up for all the time you spent mopping about. You’re certain nothing about it will be easy, but you’ll be damned if all your struggles down here were for nothing. 

You’re at hand’s reach: the infamous barrier trapping all monsters underground expands before you. Your soul’s strength was supposed to have the ability to free them all –surely you could pass the magic obstacle alone.  Its surface shines and shifts like a revolving nebula, the glassy wall distorting all light and objects behind it, engulfing all forms as only streaks of white light penetrate its otherworldly layer and douse the floor in kaleidoscopic beams of marbled colors.

Your fingers fade in the blaring light as you keep advancing and soon, just then, you can feel –

You can feel the-

The-

-The rounded, cold and impassable surface of the barrier.

You push your hand forward harder, disbelief persisting in your mind. You try with both hands, with your head, your feet, with your whole body crashing against it at full speed –but nothing works. You slump to the floor, legs crossed, knife clattering to the ground as you cover your reddening eyes with your open palms. Tears leak past the gap between your fingers, dabbing the soil with darkened spots. There’s something incredibly painful about finally regaining hope only to lose it all again.

When your eyes finally dry up after several minutes of crying, you stare lifelessly ahead at the single, translucent element blocking your route. You ignore how long you remain as such, motionless and seemingly inanimate. Before you realize it, you’re spinning the knife mindlessly between your fingers, eyes following the light bouncing off of it dutifully. As you repeat the periodic maneuvers, you think about how the object –be it the plastic one or real one- was always there in your greatest moments of weakness, how it always seemed to give you astounding courage when you were ready to sink: it gave you the power to survive, the power to defend yourself, but most importantly, the power to carve your own path. To make your own choices instead of falling prey to monsters or despair, as if it morphed you into another person, another version of yourself, a _better_ you.

Trapped down here, only inches before the barrier, you feel as if Asgore is laughing at you from his flower-covered grave. You grit your teeth: you refuse to give him the final victory. Moreover, you’re certain that that goddamned skeleton would soon be back to assert the results of your confrontation with Asgore –it’s not as if the death of the king would go unnoticed. Living your life as a serial experiment or a sex toy is not part of your goals. You curse them, you curse yourself, you curse the world.

You peer at the knife in your hands. Its steeled coldness stares back at you.

You press the sharp tip on the outline of your wrist with a feather-like touch, the contact soothing you. Confidently, you apply more pressure on the area where the skin is thinnest; soon pain follows the red lines trailing behind the path carved by the knife, the convoluted maze of your misery now apparent on your outer layer of skin. The process is repeated until your conscience drifts slowly into oblivion.

Both arms are now bleeding profusely, dripping and reuniting with the blood seeping from your belly and abdomen. You just need another nudge. You place the knife on your chest, just under your sternum, where it’ll reach your vital organs easily. With the last of your remaining strength, you push the knife in, the raw blade worming its way to your heart.

 

Enter the darkness.

 

 

 

.  .  .

 

 

 

There’s a soft, velvety texture under your fingers. You move them around, feeling strands of grass flicker in between them, leaving tingling sparks along your arms. You open your eyes, taking in your surroundings –all very familiar.

Your head hurts terribly, as you try to muster up memories or remember the cause of your presence here. You look up to see a hole in the cavern’s ceiling, showering you with faint light. You tell yourself that you obviously must have fallen, but somehow you feel otherwise. While most of your body aches, you feel no traces of deep lacerations or cuts whatsoever, a detail that’s of great relief. You move ever so slightly, grunting from discomfort. Your clothes are unscathed, save for the tears left by the fall. A disturbing sense of _déja vu_ settles in your stomach. As you struggle and swear to get on your feet, your motions are interrupted by the flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye; but when you turn your head around, nothing greets you, except the silhouette of stone pillars.

As you resume your attempt at standing up, you hear rustling and someone speaks up. The voice is weak, shy.

-Are… are you okay?

Ignoring the pain in your limbs, you swiftly shift around, eyeing the newcomer. His appearance and voice are also conspicuously familiar. He looks just like a small boy, dressed up in a long-sleeved shirt and dark cotton pants. One or two major components prevent him from looking just like a _normal_ boy though: his whole body is covered in fair, ivory fur, and while his droopy and folded ears portray him as a weeping puppy, his snout emphasizes the traits of a sheep, or rather, a lamb. He fumbles with his hands as you stare silently at him, timidity visible in his shifting pupils.

You clear your throat as you realize your rudeness, overlooking the individual’s strange appearance.

-I’m alright…I just have difficulty moving.

The boy’s countenance seems to lighten up at those words and he hastily makes his way to you, a relieved sigh leaving his muzzle.

-It’s okay! I live nearby; I’ll take you home so you can rest up.

The goat-like boy extends a hand to you, and though he is smaller than you, he finds the strength to support you as you lean on him to get up. He keeps your arm attached to his own as he seems to want to lead you further ahead, out of the clearing. You let him tug you away hesitantly, still dazed by your lapse in memory and current events. You lag behind a bit as he tries to drag you, observing the space where you woke up.

-What is it? Did you lose something?

Although you shake your head in denial to answer the boy, a festering emptiness roots itself in the cavity of your ribcage as if you had indeed forgotten –or lost- _something_. You follow without another word.

Soon the way is made awkward by the pervading silence between the two of you, so the boy speaks up, distress underlying his gentle voice.

-Erhm, so what’s your name?

He peeks at you with a rapid glance. This boy mustn’t have much contact with people. You answer him, seeing no reason why not. He perks up at the sound of it, his ears jolting ever so slightly as his mouth stretches into a toothy and genuine smile.

He stops in his track, getting a better look at your face.

-Chara, huh?

His grin widens, angelic innocence almost tangible between his two rows of teeth.

-That’s a pretty name! Well, howdy! My name’s Asriel, nice to meet you!

You chuckle a bit to yourself at the strange greeting, the rustic salutation somehow warming up your heart. Your path resumes in the obscure tunnel and all tension remains behind, bouncing along with the echoes of your name on the rocky walls.

You ignore the strange whispers they send back at you, but they latch on to you like the plague, nesting in the new formed void in your chest.

 

A bad feeling suppurates in your gut, but despite all this–

 

-although the knife – _that something_ \- lies not at your side, you are filled with a sentiment akin to determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exeunt the darkness. 
> 
> Tun-tun-tuuuuuun!  
> Yeah, that's the best I could come up with, but that's what I had planned from the beginning; I tried to leave subtle hints along the chapters, but that may be only in my head, haha. 
> 
> While the ending may not be all that great, I hope you found the smut in this series pleasant enough ;)! 
> 
> With this, thanks to y'all once again! I have more smut festering in the corners of my mind, so you'll most likely see more of my work -if you are interested in reading it- in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos, comments and advice are welcomed and appreciated! Until then... See ya in the next chapter!


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